


The Makings of Maria

by Pas_Cal



Series: Memoirs of Maria [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Historical, Historical Hetalia, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:00:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pas_Cal/pseuds/Pas_Cal
Summary: She has eyes like nothing he's seen before, and a willpower unlike anyone else in the world. Dangerous, witty, soft... There's lots of ways to describe her, but trying to understand the woman they call Maria is an endeavor of it's own. Ivan knows. He's tried for centuries and has yet to form a clear answer.





	1. Beginnings

**13th Century**

Novgorod Republic

_Ivan couldn’t remember which battle he’d first met her at. He just remembered it had been a surprisingly quick one. For him, anyway._

_No sooner had the battle started than did he see a flash of steel and then red. So much red. There had been pain, too, but only for a brief moment._

_He remembered lurching back into consciousness, heaving gasps and letting out ugly wet coughs. He’d rolled onto his side, retching up blood and bile that left a bitter, metallic taste on his lips._

_Then he felt hands scrambling to grab him and haul him over onto his back once more. Felt them press to his throat. His vision ever so slowly came to…_

_…and he saw white._

_I’m dead, he thought. That was…disappointing._

_The white figure shifted above him, gradually becoming sharper and more focused. Porcelain skin. Snow white curls tied back in a haphazard mess._

_Eyes like gemstones._

_Ivan blinked slowly, gazing up at the young woman in wonder. Her lips were moving, and he was vaguely aware of a soft murmuring, but his ears were still muted and ringing dully, cancelling out any noise directed his way._

_“..st…mi…”_

_Ivan swallowed thickly, cringing at the taste. Slowly, he breathed in, lungs aching and desperate for air. Then his senses began to catch up. He could smell the rot already beginning to settle in around him; could feel the wet mud seeping into his hair and the surreal silence around them. When he looked, he found nothing but upturned soil soaked in blood, bodies scattered amongst the grass. What living men were there meandered around in a daze, halfheartedly looking for survivors they knew didn't exist._

_“Hörst du mich?”_

_The ringing in his ears stopped. Just as it did, the pain started. Ivan stifled a whimper when it finally hit him. It washed over like a tidal wave, knocking the breath out of him. His neck had been cut open, and the rest of him trampled in the ensuing chaos. Was it any wonder a boy his size was so easily overtaken…?_

_“Junge? Bitte, hörst du mich?”_

_Did angels speak German? That would’ve been unfortunate. He only ever bothered to learn the languages of his own people and very few were of Germanic decent, if any._

_Then, quite suddenly, the Angel slapped him._

_If this truly was heaven, it was turning out to be a remarkably dreadful place._

_Ivan sputtered, choking on his own spit momentarily before he managed to remember how to work his lungs once more. He tried to respond, but all that came out was an ugly gurgle._

_The Angel seemed pleased. “Gut,” she smiled, “du lebst.” She then motioned to herself, pressing a bloody hand to her chest. “Ich bin Maria,” she said in what Ivan assumed was introduction, “ich bin wie du.”_

_Perhaps he wasn’t dead after all._

_Maria shifted next to him, drawing his attention once more. Only then did he seem to see the dirt and grime coating her skin, how her clothes were stained dark with blood and ichor. She clutched a needle and thread between her fingers, leaning back over him to begin her work._

_The pain was so awful elsewhere that he hardly registered the tug and pull of her stitching. He tried to focus on her speaking, but her voice was so soft and so foreign and he could understand absolutely none of it. Maria was quick with her hands, finishing her work within a minute._

_“Wunderschön.” She breathed, and then cast a smile his direction._

_Ivan breathed in, staring rather owlishly at her. She was young, just like him, which struck him as odd. A boy was one thing, but a girl in the middle of this carnage?_

_Perhaps she was…_

_No. No, she couldn’t be. Those men were much too cruel and terrifying to be represented by this girl._

_“Wie heiβt du?” Maria asked._

_“I don’t understand...” he slurred out in reply. His face ached as if he’d been pummeled. He watched as the girl motioned to herself._

_“Maria.” She repeated, and then gently touched at his shoulder. “Du?”_

_Ah. He swallowed another mouthful of blood and saliva, grimacing at the thick warmth of it as it went down his throat. “Ivan,” he supplied, letting his eyes droop shut._

_So tired…_

_“Klar. Fühlst du besser, Ivan. Alles ist gut.”_

_His body was trying desperately to heal itself, forcing bones to mend and skin to stretch back out over open gashes. It was a quick process for his kind, but it took mass amounts of energy._

_He hadn’t a clue what she’d said, but she had helped him, and that much he couldn’t ignore. “Thank you…” He whispered quietly, before the world gave out beneath him and sent him into nothing but darkness._

* * *

**1925**

_Kreuzberg, Berlin_

Ivan jolted awake with the rattle of the train pulling into the station. The incessant clattering of the passenger cars along the tracks finally dwindled down to a low rumble as the beast of machine came to a standstill.

He was slow to rouse, peering blearily at the empty seat in front of him for several moments until the shrill trill of a conductors whistle filled the station.

Resigning to the inevitable, Ivan pushed himself upright before reaching up to drag his luggage case off the overhead storage rather sluggishly. It was impossibly light for a weeklong stay, but given the current conditions back home and everywhere else in the world, new things were hard to come by and less and less of his clothes seemed to fit him anymore.

The Great War and the ensuing Civil War in his own nation had taken its toll, to say the least.

Berlin was as busy and bustling a city as he remembered it. Perhaps a bit more diverse and crowded than before, but with the mortality rate on the decline and living conditions consistently getting better—not to be confused with _optimal_ —it was no surprise the population was starting to boom.

The platform was noisy and stuffed with civilians trying to board for the next train or scramble off the current one. Maria was in that crowd somewhere, so he’d been told. How he was supposed to find such a short woman in a horde like this, he had no earthly idea.

_Ah, wait a moment._

Ivan squinted, peering over the many scampering heads to see a woman towering at least two feet above them, waving one hand frantically in the air while she held her wool garden hat to her head with the other.

_That would be how._                   

Ivan took a moment to plot a beeline path through the crowd before beginning his venture toward the excited, bouncy Prussian across the way. Honestly, it was almost criminal how giddy she was to see him.

When he finally reached her, he had to come to terms with the fact that he would have to look _up_ to see her properly. Something, he noted, she was _exceptionally_ smug about.

“So this is what it’s like to be the short one.” He hummed, resting his luggage once more on the ground before tugging his gloves loose. Maria tilted her head up proudly, hands on her hips. “You get to see up everyone’s noses.”

Maria’s cheeks colored pink as she slapped a hand over her nose, swatting at him agitatedly with the other. “Ivan!” But he only laughed and opened his arms for her to fall into.

She hugged him tightly as he swung her off the bench and back onto the ground, face buried in his neck. Ivan returned the sentiment in kind, rather unwilling to let go at first, but given Maria’s chatty nature, it was inevitable. Before she pulled away, she cupped his face in her hands and planted a kiss on each cheek; the brim of her hat bumping rather clumsily against the top of his head.

“The train was a little late,” Ivan started sheepishly, reaching up to adjust her headpiece back into a less cockeyed position. “I hope you weren’t waiting for too long.”

“Oh, they’re always late. No worries, Big Guy, I only got here a minute before it arrived.” She patted his cheek before finally pulling out of his loose hold to scoop up his luggage. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” He replied rather exhaustedly. She gave him a sympathetic look before slipping her free hand into Ivan’s. She gave it a firm squeeze, starting off toward the exit with Ivan in tow.

“Chin up,” she said, “it’s easy going from here on out.”

* * *

 “You kept one framed.” Ivan said flatly, violet gaze fixated on what he initially had thought was a placard posted on the wall.

It was, in fact, a piece of paper currency. A papier mark with “100 Billion” stamped on the front. Ivan’s German wasn’t by any means perfect, but he knew numbers better than anything and what that translated to was actually a _Trillion_.

Not that it had ever really been worth any substantial amount of money, of course.

Maria put her hat on the coat rack, followed by her scarf and pea coat. “Well if you had seen the ridiculousness of that monetary crisis, you’d understand.” She retorted, turning around to help him out of his own winter wear. The foyer was a little cramped compared to what they were used to, but for Maria it suited her just fine.

It was home after all.

Bit of a downgrade from a palace, but apartment living had its charm. The landlady, Theresa, was certainly a change of pace, but at least she made the transition rather exciting. Along with running her own little real estate venture, she also ran the bakery at the base of the building, and boy, did she know how to bake.

It was quaint and small, but Maria had lived in far worse in a world where plumbing and electricity weren’t a thing, so she wasn’t about to complain. Really, though, who could hate a place that smelled like freshly baked bread every morning?

“Remember,” Maria started. “No shop talk. You’re here to relax and take it easy. No politics, no nothin’.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You don’t get to do any cooking or cleaning around the house for that matter. Not that it needs doing, I run a pretty tight ship.” She ushered him out into the main room of the flat once all his winter gear (and wet shoes) were discarded. “You are officially on _vacation_.”

“In Berlin…?” Ivan arched a brow as he looked down at her. She gave him a swat upside the head.

“Cheapest option you got. And besides, I don’t really have the means to travel right now so, yeah. Berlin.” Maria finally passed him and shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards until she found what she was looking for. “It’s coming on the holidays, too, and since your new bosses don’t seem to like Christmas very much, which is a damn _crime_ by the way, I figured you could celebrate early with me.”

Ivan stayed planted where he was, listening, but rather distracted by the furnishings of the flat. The furniture seemed new, but there were lots of little things he noticed that, while an ordinary human wouldn’t have really known any better, stuck out like a sore thumb to him. Old and tattered books that were surely acquired fresh off the Gutenberg press organized on bookshelves, items that were at one point new, but now considered antiquated and priceless treasures. She had a sword mounted on the wall, one he recognized all too well.

Her ribbon from the Order of Louise was also now hung on the wall in a box frame, not far from the papier mark, actually.

A loud popping noise snapped Ivan out of his reverie. He started a bit, quickly turning his gaze back to Maria who had two empty glasses in one hand, and a now open bottle of champagne in the other. “Shall we?”

* * *

The agreement was that Ivan would stay for a week. That was all Maria could manage to get off from work, and Ludwig himself was off attending business in the Ruhr. Ivan was rather hesitant to leave his own nation for so long, but given all he’d gone through, a little vacation seemed like a _very_ good idea.

He was still a mess, there was no denying. He was exhausted and he looked the part. Maria had even brought to his attention that he’d lost a fair amount of weight. He was still large by all accounts, but his shirts were a little looser than before and he had to tighten his belt by a notch or two more than he typically did. She fussed over him the entire evening the first night he was there because of it.

Maria had gone through a fair amount of trials and tribulation herself. Ivan’s country was on the road to recovery, but Maria’s was still struggling unbelievably. The Great War had left her nation absolutely ravaged. The Prussian throne had been abdicated, military dispersed, and the nation left with an unbelievable amount of debt and mandatory war reparations to be paid.

France had been very unforgiving.

Maria had always been petite. She was short, and if one didn’t pay close attention, she didn’t really seem like much. But she had trained hard, and back in her prime she’d managed to pack away a fair amount of muscle under her uniform. These days she seemed a little more on the frail side.

Of course, when a single kilogram of butter had at one point ran for well over six trillion marks, food was rather difficult to come by.

She had her political work, when it came around, but these days she found herself doing mostly blue-collar labor at the hospital not far away. “It’s mostly just for the extra cash on the side.” She had explained. “Lutz has picked up some pretty odd jobs himself. You know he was working at a cuckoo clock factory at one point!?”

She enjoyed it. And despite everything, Maria seemed exceptionally happy where she was.

Really, all she needed was the husband and five kids and she’d be living her dream.

Regrettably, the first two days Ivan was there, he spent sleeping. They’d had their drinks and chatted idly, but before long he ended up passed out, sprawled haphazardly across the couch with one leg hanging off rather comically. He’d awoken long enough for food, and the necessary breaks the human body necessitated.

Otherwise he was dead asleep. Snoring.

“At least you don’t sound like a freight train.” Maria remarked on the third day when Ivan finally seemed to rise from the dead. “There’s days Lutz gets home so exhausted he just passes out and the furniture rattles.” She chuckled. Ivan groggily hummed in acknowledgement, lifting his mug of coffee to drink.

“Please, he’s loud enough I can hear him in the kitchen when I’m gettin’ ready for the morning rush.” Theresa cackled from the beside the counter. “I don’t know how you manage to get any sleep with that ruckus, Julie. I’d’ve strangled him by now.”

“I’m used to noisy nights.” Maria shrugged. “I’ve had to sleep through gunfire and all sorts of things.”

“Glory to ya.”

Ivan frowned a bit, gaze shifting toward the portly young woman still fussing about in the kitchen fixing breakfast. She was almost assuredly human, but with the way she talked it was almost as if…

“She knows.” Maria supplied when she caught on to his curious look. “Figured it out pretty quick, actually.”

“Call it a sixth sense.” Theresa turned toward the dining table, two large serving plates in hand. She set them on the dining table, followed shortly by another bowl full of freshly baked bread slices. One plate was full of cheese wedges and soft spreads, while the other had an assortment of cold cuts. “You guys are kinda hard to miss in a crowd. ‘Specially you two.”

Ivan shifted in his seat, plucking a slice of bread from the batch to nibble on. Maria had already started making herself a hearty breakfast plate. “How _did_ you meet?” Ivan asked curiously. “We don’t…generally move into private estates like this…”

“Oh, that one’s easy.” Maria said around a mouthful of meat and cheese. She took a gulp of tea before continuing. “I met her husband in the War.”

Ivan raised his brows, looking between the two woman sat across from him. Theresa abstained from eating, more than likely because she’d been up for quite some time and already had the chance to. She was a sturdy woman, dark eyes and unruly black curls she kept half pulled back out of her face. She looked the definition of a working woman. Worn hands, heavy build, and a stern attitude that could put Maria’s rambunctious one to shame.

“Herman Benowitz.” Theresa supplied. “He was just a corporal, but he was a smart man. Knew what he was doin’. Knew the _risks_ , rather, but he insisted on taking part in the fight.”

Ivan leaned back in his seat, setting his coffee back on the table. “And he…didn’t make it…?” He asked hesitantly. Theresa shook her head rather grimly.

“Julie here helped him as best she could. Can’t thank her enough for that. After everythin’ was said and done she went out of her way to find me and tell me his last words.” Theresa smiled warmly at that, nudging Maria under the table. “Next thing I know, she’s lookin’ for a place to stay and I had a vacancy.” She shrugged her shoulders casually, looking back toward Ivan with a wide smile. “I visit whenever I’ve got someone to look after the shop and her or Luddy’s home. Maybe I’ll even fix up some of my world famous dumplings later this week before you head back to the ice box you call home?”

“Oh, would you!?” Maria wriggled excitedly. “They’re the best, Ivan. You can’t leave until you have ‘em. She refuses to give me the recipe no matter what I do.”

“Family secret.” Theresa winked.

“You just want to see me grovel.” Maria accused, eliciting a sharp peal of laughter from Theresa.

Ivan watch quietly as the two of them bickered, a soft smile falling into place. It was a lovely change of pace, this sort of setting. It was intimate. Familial.

Safe.

He rather found himself wishing he didn’t have to leave.

* * *

  _Charlottenburg Palace, Berlin_

Germany was famous for a lot of things, but the Weinachtsmarkt was absolutely one of the most notable on the list. There wasn’t just one, but _many_ scattered about the capital and the rest of the country. Dresden, Frankfurt, Nuremburg. They all had something to offer.

Maria had picked one in the Charlottenburg Borough. A short walk to the train station, and then a leisurely (albeit a little noisy) ride to their destination was all it took to get there. The cold air seemed to rouse Ivan a little more from his groggy state, becoming much more alert and responsive to Maria’s conversation.

“Have you ever seen them actually _make_ these things?” She asked, nudging him lightly in the side.

“I can’t say I have.” He admitted, glancing about their passenger car to gage how crowded it was. It seemed mostly empty except for the few heads he could see over the backs of the seats. “I wasn’t aware you were interested.”

“Oh, I’m interested in _everything_. Especially mechanical things. We’ve come a long way from where we started, after all, and it’s just amazing to think of where we’ll end up going, y’know?”

“That can be a rather bittersweet thing, you know.” He reminded her. “A locomotive is one thing. A bomber plan is something else.”

Maria hummed a bit in agreement, rubbing her hands together to create a bit of warmth from the friction. “That’s true, but they’re always looking for ways to make _anything_ more efficient. War’s no exception.” She sniffed. “They’ve got portable _personal_ camera’s now, too. And moving films! You and I should see one, sometime. Or maybe visit one of the studios.”

He gave an amused laugh at that. “Just so you can weasel your way into one of them, yes?” She waved her hand at him dismissively.

“Of course not! Well, maybe. Mostly I just wanna try using one on my own. I’d love to get in a car again, but Lutz is pretty adamant about that.”

“Yes, I’ve been rather hesitant to ask _why_ that is? How badly did you wreck your automobile?”

Maria let out a short cough, turning her gaze to the side. “I, uh…” She shuffled anxiously in her seat, looking rather embarrassed. “I got side tracked.”

“You weren’t paying attention.” He stated flatly.

“There was a dog.” She weakly tried to defend. “A big dog and he was _beautiful_ and I got so caught up staring at it that I sort of…wound up in a ditch.” She hung her head in shame whilst Ivan tilted his back against the seat, shaking it rather disappointedly.

“Why am I not surprised…” He sighed.

“I still think it was worth it.”

He laughed and straightened, just as the train pulled into its destination. Maria hastily bundled back up and collected her things before standing. Ivan swiftly snatched the hat she’d left on her seat and planted it crookedly on her head.

“Scatterbrain.” He called her, to which she turned around to stick her tongue out at him childishly before filing out of the train car with the other passengers.

* * *

It was late enough in the evening that the plaza had all its lights turned on. The large Christmas tree in the midst of it all was decorated rather dazzlingly, the iron gates of the palace lined with little bulbs attached on strings of wire. It was quite a bit more crowded, bustling with families perusing the different stalls. The sweet smells of mulled wine and freshly baked goodies wafted around them, making his stomach gurgle rather hungrily.

Maria slid her gloved hand into his, pulling him along to venture forth and explore.

Gingerbread, cinnamon apple tarts, marzipan, cider. They even had a small stage set up where a band played holiday tunes. Off on one side of the plaza, there was an area set up for the younger customers, including a carousel which Ivan knew full well Maria would end up dragging him on to.

Ivan tugged his scarf a little more tightly around his neck, shuffling nervously beside Maria. Crowds he did not do well in. They were much too stifling and he felt he stood out too much. But then there was Maria who had to strain on her tiptoes just to see where she was going. It was a wonder the gaggle of patrons didn’t swallow her whole and spit her back out on the wayside.

Their first stop was a food and drink stand. A gingerbread cookie and a cup of mulled wine for the both of them. Ivan was hesitant at first, but Maria goaded him on.

“Go on, it’s my treat. I saved up for this.” She reassured. Reluctantly he finally took the offered goods, and they started back through the crowd to visit other stands.

Lace headbands, crocheted doilies shaped like snowflakes, even glassware and handmade ornaments. There were lots to peruse through, most of it cheap and made to sell in bulk, but every once in a while they’d pass a stand full of fine crafts that Ivan had doubts _anyone_ could afford given the economic situation.

“Christmas is my favourite time of year.” Maria admitted when they found a quieter place to sit down and relax, watching the crowd shift back and forth before them. “I can’t say much about the other holidays, but Christmas is definitely a lot more intimate and homey.”

“Oh?” Ivan glanced her way, mouth full of gingerbread. He scrubbed away the crumbs clinging to his lips with his sleeve.

“Well, it’s pretty family based. You go out and buy gifts for your loved ones. Spend the evenings in at home sharing stories and drinking warm mugs of hot chocolate.” She smiled brightly. “When Lutz was real little, I’d sneak little gifts in his shoes. Chocolates, mostly. Bit of a tradition.” She shrugged. “Nowadays we mostly exchange books, or occasionally I’ll get him a new sweater or shirt. He’s gonna be so mad when he sees what I got him this year.”

“And what’s that?” Ivan asked rather apprehensively.

“A cuckoo clock.” She replied, dissolving into a small fit of wicked cackles. Ivan rolled his eyes and shook his head almost disappointedly.

“It’s a wonder he puts up with you.” He chided, finishing off his cookie before washing it down with a swig of wine. “I only see you in small spurts, but he _lives_ with you.”

“Oh, he’s learned to cope.” Maria waved her hand rather flippantly. “If I make him too mad, he just grounds me.”

Ivan nearly snorted wine out his nose. He coughed a bit, looking at her in shock. “What?!”

Maria leaned back and crossed her legs at the knee, idly turning her cup in her hands. “He’ll hide my books. Usually always the ones I’m really into. Or if he’s feeling especially mean, he’ll finish off the leftover dumplings Theresa makes.”

“You said he _grounds_ you?”

“More or less.” She shrugged. “I only let him get away with it when I deserve it.” She went on. “Which is…a lot, admittedly.”

“No surprise there. It is a little odd for you to readily acknowledge it, though.” Ivan gradually relaxed once more, letting out a breath that frosted in the air. Maria hummed rather dismissively, tipping back her cup to finish the last of her drink.

“So what’s your favourite holiday?” She asked after a moment of silence had passed between them. Ivan deliberated, lips pursed as he thought.

“New Year’s Day.” He finally answered.

“That’s cheating. Your birthday is over New Year’s.” Maria huffed. Ivan laughed softly, but continued regardless.

“Yes, but I don’t celebrate my birthday very often. Most of us don’t. I’ve always liked the idea of a new start. A clean slate.” He stretched his legs out in front of him briefly before tucking his feet back under the bench. “It’s more metaphorical than anything. The New Year rarely brings about much change, just the hope of it. But that’s enough for me.”

“New beginnings, huh?” Maria echoed, looking thoughtful for a few moments. “It’s a nice thought.”

“But not a realistic one.” Ivan added solemnly. “Second chances are a rarity among our kind.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Maria quipped, sliding off the bench to stand upright. She held her hand out for Ivan to take, which he did after a brief moment of hesitation. “We get more second chances than you realize.”

* * *

  **1716**

_Stadtschloss, Berlin_

She glowed golden in the amber light cast off the room. The suns’ morning rays filtered in, reflecting gorgeously on the handcrafted work around them and her pale features.

They were surrounded by the breathtaking view of dozens upon dozens of hues of amber glittering in the light. Gold leaf embossed frames and molding hung on the walls, inlaid gemstones sparkling like the precious jewels they were. It had all been stitched together in an intricate puzzle of top notch craftsmanship.

It was, at its heart, _quite_ awe-inspiring.

“I’m sorry, you want what?” Ivan asked dubiously, watching as Maria fidgeted in place anxiously. It wasn’t so much a nervous shuffle as it was an excited one.

“Fifty-five of your tallest soldiers,” she chirped in reply, “biggest you got.”

Ivan drew in a breath, a look of incredulous annoyance crossing his features.

“Fifty-five.” He echoed in a deadpan, watching as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Yup.” She popped the last consonant, lips curling up into a rather disconcerting smile. He eyed her questionably, folding his arms over his chest in an almost guarded manner.

“And in exchange…?”

“We’ll join an alliance against Sweden,” she replied, “which is something you need desperately, I hear. Make friends where you can, right?”

“Our kind aren’t exactly in the business of making friends, Prussia.”

“Maria,” she corrected, “and I really don’t see why it’s such a farfetched idea, Ivan.”

“Russia,” he amended shortly. Maria tilted her chin up, looking unphased. “It’s uncommon simply because our lives are too complicated.”

“Clearly you need to learn some better management skills, then.” She sniffed, starting to pace around him restlessly. It didn’t ease his tension in the slightest. Ivan took care to keep his gaze on her at all times.

“I don’t have friends.” He retorted flatly.

“Then I’ll have to be the first, I suppose.” Maria countered with a nonchalant shrug as she ran a finger over the edge of a gilded frame.

He narrowed his gaze suspiciously, but Maria was a remarkably easy woman to read. She was stubborn, and quite odd, but her poker face remained to be absolutely abysmal.

“Why?” Curiosity got the better of him. Ivan lowered his guard a fraction, letting his hands fall loosely by his sides. Maria wasn’t really capable of overtaking him anyway. She was a petite woman, after all, and he himself was quite a husky character.

“Friends are good to have,” she said easily, “and rare to come by. Mostly because there’s only a handful of us out in the world. Most of which I have yet to actually meet.” She continued, glancing his way. “In the end, it doesn’t really make sense to make enemies with the only other people like you, right?” Maria gave a pause, falling to a standstill in front of the window. “Also, if you say yes, I’ll give you this room.”

Ivan scowled. “You’re _bribing_ me? That doesn’t seem a very conducive way to begin a friendship, Prussia.”

“Maria.” She corrected once more, eyeing him pointedly. Ivan was struck momentarily with the sneaking suspicion that he was missing something. “It’s not a bribe, it’s an offer.” She paused. “A _peace_ offering. Sort of.”

“I’d think we’d have to be at odds, first, in order for a peace offering to be made.” Ivan clasped his hands behind his back.

“I could, theoretically, punch you in the nose,” she offered with a flash of teeth and a worrisome glint in her eye, “but that seems counterintuitive.” Maria laughed lightly, shifting from foot to foot in an almost impatient manner.

“You’re up to something.” He accused.

“Am I?”

“ _Maria_.”

She grinned, finally seeming to fall still. “Was that so hard?”

“Well calling you otherwise didn’t seem to get me anywhere…” He grumbled.

“That’s because I’m not talking to you as a nation, _Ivan_.” She rested her hands on her hips, looking quite smug and remarkably full of herself. His look of confusion only grew.

“I beg your pardon…?” Ivan began, baffled.

“The alliance and soldiers are between Russia and Prussia,” she finally clarified, “the room is between you and me. Ivan and Maria.”

That was…an interesting concept; one Ivan couldn’t fully admit to understanding. Maria spoke in a way that regarded them as…human. But as far as he recalled, they most certainly were _not_. They were entirely different creatures than them.

“Friends…” he echoed quietly, finally seeming to consider her offer. “So if I say yes…?”

“Then I get to write you letters and visit, and you get to do the same. We start up a correspondence. Maybe have tea every now and then. Gossip on the other nations.”

“And should I say no?” He ventured warily, already knowing her response.

“I’ll still write letters and drop in unannounced, but you don’t get the room.” She said succinctly.

Ivan felt his shoulders sag exhaustedly. What sane person would come up with this drivel?

“All the panels are detachable, you see.” She continued, motioning vaguely toward the opulent walls. “So should you say yes, all we have to do is take it apart and reassemble it where ever suits your fancy.”

“You seem remarkably intent on invading my personal space and privacy.” He frowned, head tilted. “What if we don’t get along?”

“We will.”

“You don’t know that.”

She seemed to deliberate over that for a rather extensive half a second before she lifted her shoulders in another shrug. “Won’t know until you try, right?”

Ivan had an unusually hard time comparing this Maria to the one he’d met all those centuries ago on the battle field. She was decidedly less gentle and angelic. Still pretty, by all means, but… well her very appearance sort of screamed “absolute mess” despite how well her nation was run.

Eccentric. That was the word he was looking for.

Ivan forced himself to relax, glancing at the artistry around them. It was no doubt very expensive and had taken years to finish, but Maria was more than willing to part with it.

It briefly crossed his mind that this wasn’t a room she’d had constructed on a whim. Even she wasn’t _that_ careless.

No, she’d made this room with every intention of giving it to him, regardless of his answer.

With that knowledge in mind, his perception of her shifted a bit. He watched how she eyed him almost nervously, as if worried he’d actually say no. How she kept fidgeting and pacing in an almost unnerving manner. Perhaps she _was_ worried? But for what? She had absolutely nothing to lose in this proposition.

Ivan tilted his chin up, eyeing her curiously. “Why?” He asked.

“I already told you.”

“Indulge me.” He coaxed, noting the crease in her brow and the anxious way she gnawed at the inside of her cheek. “Why part with such a precious piece of artistry with no assurance that we’ll actually become friends? It’s an awfully big gamble you’re making.”

“That’s true,” she agreed, lips pursed, “but I’d still like to think it’s possible. You remember the first time we met, right?”

“Vaguely. I recall you prodding me with a needle in the neck.” Ivan relaxed a little more, beginning to idly wander the room and take a closer look at its finery.

“I was _helping_ you.” She huffed. “Stitching you up. You’d been trampled and your throat cut open—”

“Anyone else would have left me for dead.” He remarked.

“Well I’m not ‘anyone else’; I’m me, and I don’t do that.” Maria scowled, folding her arms across her chest. “I was taught to help the injured all throughout my childhood. I grew up in a religious order for Christ’s sake.” He couldn’t help but note the irony of her phrasing. His lips tugged up at the corners bemusedly.

“You haven’t changed much, after all.”

“I have too!” She huffed. “I’ve grown a lot since we were kids.”

“You’re still rather short, actually—” Ivan started, only to be interrupted by a harsh smack to his arm. It was all in jest, of course.

“I’ve gotten _stronger_.” Maria clarified. “I’m not some natty little hospital in the middle east full of smelly old knights. I’ve got a _country_ under my feet. I have a _King_.” She puffed her chest up proudly, chin held high. “I’m a nation,” she said firmly, “and one of these days, I’m gonna be the best there is.”

“That’s a rather bold statement. What does Holy Rome think of your aspirations, I wonder?”

“We’re getting off topic.” Maria scowled.

Ivan deliberated for quite a while, sweeping his gaze about the room once more. “You’re sure about this?” Ivan questioned, arching a brow as he looked back her way.

Maria lifted her chin, smile wide and eyes bright. They reflected the amber glow of the room quite nicely. “I’m willing to take my chances.” She said, and thrust her hand out for him to shake. Ivan eyed her thin fingers apprehensively, but when his gaze flickered back up to hers, it became quite clear that Maria was not, in fact, trying to con him into some despicable agreement.

Perhaps she was a little _too_ easy to read. Despite her chipper visage, there was the slightest crease in her brow, as if she was afraid he'd reject her.

Truly, all she wanted was a friend. She was, of course, going about it in a rather unorthodox manner, but her desire, nonetheless, was one Ivan could relate to fully. Friends were, after all, hard to come by in the world they lived in.

Hesitantly, Ivan reached out to clasp her hand in his. It was rather comical, the difference in size. His thick fingers and wide palm nearly engulfed hers entirely.

“If we’re to be allies—”

“Friends.” Maria corrected quickly.

“…friends,” Ivan amended, “then I suppose proper introductions are in order, yes?”

Their hands fell loose. Ivan watched as Maria gave a mock curtsey; a rather sloppy one at that.

“Maria Julia Beilschmidt.” She introduced, smiling so wide her dimples were in plain view. Ivan hesitated, briefly taken aback by her candid and spirited manner.

“Ivan Moscovitch Branginsky.” He finally replied, giving a curt bow of the head. “A pleasure to know you.”

Maria clapped her hands together excitedly, drawing his attention once more. “Excellent!” She cheered. “Now, about those soldiers.”

“ _Bozhe_ , you were serious about that?”

“Please, Ivan, I’m always serious.”

 

 


	2. Blue

**1762**

_The Catherine Palace, Tsarskoye Selo_

Ivan had to admit, Maria’s spritely nature was always something of a breath of fresh air. Wartime was never enjoyable, and often he found himself stifled in lengthy meetings, dredging up battle plans when he’d much rather be in the comforts of his own home. Perhaps even with a hot cup of tea and a nice book.

He had to wonder if Maria enjoyed such pleasantries. It was hard to pin what sort of hobbies she took interest in, though one thing was for certain; wit, had it been considered a past-time, was absolutely one of them.

It was May, and in the middle of a large scale conflict, the Russian Empress had passed away some months before. The new reigning monarch to take the throne had reform on the mind, and it started with relations between his nation and Prussia. Up until recently they had been “enemies” on opposing sides of the fight. Now, not only were they allies, but Ivan’s new boss had gone through the trouble of changing his uniform from the traditional Russian Green to a lovely Prussian Blue.

Though the treaty itself would be signed in St. Petersburg proper in the following days, Ivan and Maria had decided to meet at the new home of the Amber Room, The Catherine Palace, to discuss their peace talks. The room itself, like always, seemed a world away from reality.

And much more complete now that Maria was standing there in it.

She was speechless when she stepped into the room to see him. Ivan shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to meet her gaze at first, embarrassment getting the better of him. There was something decidedly _intimate_ about wearing another nation’s colors, after all. But it had been his emperor’s idea and there were only good intentions behind the change.

Even so…

She eyed him, quite honestly, much like a lion did its prey, even going the extra mile to circle around him and admire the new appearance.

“This looks a hundred times better than your gaudy green uniforms.” She finally said, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for far too long. Ivan started a bit, finally turning his gaze toward hers with a scowl.

“That gaudy green was the Russian standard,” Ivan said flatly, “and my favorite color.” He added offhandedly.

“Which is precisely what made it gaudy.” Maria quipped, tilting her chin up as she smiled. “But this?” She motioned toward his uniform, to the deep _Prussian_ blue adorning his frame. “This is perfection.”

A silence stretched between them for several long moments. Eventually, Maria burst into a fit of giggles, trying to stifle the noise with a hand over her mouth. It didn’t take long for his composure to break as well. Soon he found himself smiling and letting out a breath as he relaxed. “You’re impossible.”

“Why Ivan, I’ve no idea what you mean.” She remarked whimsically before half-heartedly reigning in her composure. “Anyway, I suppose I should give my belated condolences for the Empress? I’d hate to say it’s lucky she died, but…” Maria lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “if she hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.” As she spoke, Ivan motioned for her to take a seat at the table before them. He’d taken care to have food and drink set up; nothing extravagant, but enough to keep them sated during their talk. It was a little out of place with the typical décor of the room, but it made do.

“One of many rulers. Certainly not the last of funerals I’ll be attending to.” Ivan replied with a wave. “Peter has made…quite an impression with the people. Not a favorable one, unfortunately.” They took their seats and he began to reach out to pour tea, however Maria shooed his hands away and did it herself instead.

“How long do you think he’ll last?” She asked, gaze fixed on the teapot as she poured for the both of them.

“Not very.”

“That’s a pity. I guess I should savor the sight of you in blue while I still can, hm? It suits you.” Maria smiled rather devilishly as she relaxed back in her seat, nursing a piping hot cup of tea in her hands. Ivan tried to will the blush from his cheeks, but of course it didn’t work. Pale man’s curse, and all. Instead he tried to hide it behind his cup of tea as he sipped. “I hear his wife is quite a catch, though.”

“How do you mean?”

“She’s Prussian.”

Ivan choked a bit on his drink. He took a moment to catch his breath, setting his cup back down in its saucer before looking to Maria. “And…? These royal families are all connected in some way or another. Her cousin is heir to the Swedish throne.”

 “Which is currently held by a man married to a Prussian Princess. Fritz’s sister, to be exact.” Maria sniffed. She looked so damn smug it was absolutely unnerving.

“Your point?” Ivan narrowed his gaze a bit.

“Well, you say Peter won’t last long. And that would mean his wife would end up on the throne. So…” She pursed her lips, eyebrows raised. “I’m just wondering how it feels knowing you could eventually have a Prussian in charge of your entire nation.”

Ivan stared at her blankly as she sipped away at her tea looking all too self-satisfied. First the humiliation of having to wear _her_ colors, and now this…?

“You haven’t changed one bit.” He accused.

Maria broke into a grin. “And neither have you, Big Guy. It’s about damn time we ended up on the same side of a war together.”

“I would have preferred there be no war in the first place.” He confessed, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. Maria remained relaxed in her seat, legs crossed and foot idly bouncing in the air. She’d opted for a uniform that day rather than court dress. It was rather evident she didn’t fancy the bulky and extravagant garbs that were custom for women to wear, pretty as they were.

A pity, really. She was, by all accounts, a very beautiful woman. However, she didn’t seem to care much for appearances or impressions. Likely due to how she’d been raised, Ivan figured. Really, her upbringing explained a lot of her quirky and bizarre nature.

“I’ve learned to just go with it.” Maria continued. “It’s actually pretty fun directing the soldiers on the field. Almost like a game of chess.” She grinned wickedly at Ivan’s exasperated look, but she sobered up after a moment. “It’s—” And then she faltered, head tilted to the side a bit. “It’s easier than I thought it would be.”

“What is?” Ivan gently pressed.

“Fighting.”

“Killing, you mean.”

Maria scowled, lips pursed and leg falling still. “I’m still not used to it, even after all these years.” She admitted. “I try to avoid it when I can but sometimes they come at you so fast there’s nothing else you can do. It’s terrifying. And beyond that, some of the men are just- they’re just _kids_. I mean, not _actual_ kids, but they’re so young and…” She shifted uncomfortably, shaking her head. “It’s one thing to watch it from a distance and clean up the aftermath, but to actually contribute to the bloodshed… I don’t know how you managed it as a child.”

“Not well, in fact.” Ivan replied. “I told you before, I didn’t fight by choice. Most times I never had a chance to start with. I ended up dead within the first five minutes of the fight. As dead as one can be being a nation.” He amended softly, voice muffled around the rim of his cup. Ivan fell quiet for a moment, looking concerned. “Have you…?” He started, but fell short of finishing the query out loud.

“A few times.” She admitted, shifting uncomfortably as her gaze drifted off to the side. “I’ve had more close calls, than anything. On _and_ off the field.”

Ivan fell silent, watching her expression closely as he debated on pressing further. In the end, he didn’t have to. Maria lifted a hand and tapped her head lightly, at a scar cutting through the arch in her left eyebrow.

“Fritz’s dad, my previous boss.” She explained. “I jumped in the way when he was about to strike Fritz with a cane and he got me instead. Cracked my skull. Hit me a second time just because I’d ‘interfered’. For everything that man did for my nation, he really didn’t care a fig for me.”

Ivan couldn’t even begin to describe the anger and disgust that had settled in the pit of his stomach at the mention of it. It wasn’t unusual for humans to be cruel; Ivan himself had dealt with more than one terrible ruler in the past. But for one to go so far as to hurt Maria of all people…? Ivan simply couldn’t forgive it.

“Fritz and his siblings,” Maria said softly, “they had it hard. I don’t know what it is that makes them so violent…”

“What, humans?” Ivan asked. When Maria gave a nod in affirmation, he let out a breath. “They are arrogant and greedy. Always have been.” He said quietly. “They live such short lives that they try and take as much as they can before their time is up, by whatever means necessary.”

“They’re not all bad, though.” Maria interjected.

“No.” Ivan agreed. “Not all.” He ran his finger along the rim of his cup idly as he stared at the table. Maria watched him silently as the moments ticked by. “Was that the first time he’d hit you…?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?” Maria quirked a brow. Ivan resigned with a hum.

“I suppose not…”

“It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.” She said gently. “His kids certainly got off worse than I did. I think he was just scared of me.” Maria shrugged her shoulders dismissively, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “As most people tend to be. I’m used to it by now. I think growing up in the Order was a lot harder than this, to be honest.”

“Really? That seems a little backwards.”

Maria gave another small shrug, staring down at her cup of tea. “They were a lot more superstitious back then. Not to say they aren’t _now_ , but it was much worse. Scrawny little albino child who never seems to age… Either I was some sort of godsend, or I was a demon in disguise.” She glanced up at Ivan briefly. “Not many people seemed to believe the former.”

“I still think you deserved better…” Ivan murmured quietly, looking off to the side as he frowned. He started a bit when she nudged him with her foot under the table, gaze snapping up to meet hers. “ _Chto_?”

“I’m a lot sturdier than I look, Ivan.” She reassured. “Don’t let my stature fool you. I’ve brought down men as big as you who ended up bawling like babies, begging for mercy.” Her lips quirked up into a lopsided smile. “And in the grand scheme of things, I’m doing a hell of a lot better than where I started, even compared to a century ago. You don’t need to worry about me, alright?”

Ivan offered a small smile in return to her words. “You are my friend,” he said quietly, “I worry anyway.”

Her cheeks dusted such a lovely shade of pink, gaze casting downward out of embarrassment. After a few moments had passed, she took in a deep breath and straightened up in her seat. “Alright,” Maria clapped her hands together, calling Ivan to her attention. “Enough of that. How about those peace talks, yeah?”

* * *

**1903**

_The Winter Palace, Tsarskoye Selo_

“You’re sure it doesn’t look weird? I feel weird.”

“You look wonderful, Masha. I give you my word.”

Maria gave a little spin, staring uncertainly at her reflection in the mirror. She felt positively drowned in the fabric adorning her frame. It was a three piece sarafan made of deep blue brocade ( _Prussian_ blue, Ivan had made sure to note) trimmed with white and silver silk thread, and beaded with pearls. Long, muscovite sleeves hung clear down to her calves, hiding her arms from view when she let them hang loosely by her side.

It truly was pretty. It was _designed_ to be. This was a costume ball, after all. Maria certainly didn’t miss the hoopskirt and bustle demanded in the more typical French fashion, though. That was for certain.

Ivan himself had taken up a classic boyar outfit, cream colored with deep golden accents. The tunic itself hung clear down to his knees, tied off around the waist with a deep red velvet sash. Accented, of course, with a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. The same one he always wore.

He watched silently a few paces away as Maria fidgeted and fussed with the outfit. Her hair had been combed out and braided, pinned up in an intricate bun and further adorned with beaded clips. Though she had passed on the veil, she had agreed to wear the traditional kokoshnik. Nothing extravagant by any means, just a simple silver tiara in the Russian fashion.

She did, however, insist that she be allowed to wear her ribbon of the Order of Louise. Ivan, naturally, had told her it wouldn’t be an issue, and even pinned it onto the dress himself.

“My Russian is still really bad. Are you sure it was okay to invite me to this?” Maria finally turned to face Ivan, fingering at the pearl necklace draped around her neck. “I’m not exactly court material, here.”

“Nonsense. You’ll be fine.” Ivan gave a warm smile, holding out a hand for her to take. “I’m simply happy you accepted the invitation.”

“Like I’d miss a chance to see you dance.” She snorted.

Ivan tucked one arm behind his back as Maria took his other hand. He gently held her fingers within his own, guiding her in a sweeping circle around the room so she could get a feel for walking in the outfit. “The style suits you.” He said when she finally came to a stop.

Maria stuck her tongue out at him rather childishly. “Har har. I see what this is. This is payback for Peter’s uniforms all that time ago, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been discovered.” Ivan chuckled. “But now you have a taste of how I felt.” He dropped her hand and stepped back, bowing at the waist while making a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Dorogoya Maria,” He started, a smile creeping across his lips when he caught Maria’s embarrassed look. “Would you accompany me to the ball?” He asked, straightening up once more.

“You are so—” She started, face devastatingly red. It took a moment or two, but she managed to regain her composure and responded with a curtsy. “Of course, Herr Braginsky. I would be delighted.”

She took his offered hand once more, and arm in arm they left for the grand Winter Ball.

 


	3. Alcohol

  **1903**

_The Winter Palace, Tsarskoye Selo_

The gathering was to take place in two parts, the first of which had already transpired. They’d spent an entire day in the Hermitage Theater enjoying a selection of performances from ballet to opera. Maria had been so fascinated with the way the dancers had moved about on stage during the scenes from Swan Lake. The epitome of grace and poise. They’d retired early after dinner, however, as the next day saw Maria taking extra lessons in preparation for the dancing to be done the following night.

It was a very formal affair with hundreds of attendees. Divine music, exquisite foods, and the most beautiful costumes Maria had seen. She had to remind herself that, really, these outfits weren’t entirely _costumes_. They were all outfits worn at some point in time or another during Russia’s history, simply remade for the gentry of the current era. The ladies were all elegant and divine in their boyarina regalia while the men had taken up similar roles as Boyar and Soldiers. One man had dressed as a falconer while another had come in a set of chainmail and light armor.

They were introduced, of course, their names called out as they entered the ball room. Their titles, however, were left simple; not everyone knew of what they were, after all.

“ _Ser Ivan Moscovitch Braginsky i Ledi Mariya Yulia Friederike Beilschmidt._ ”

Ivan gave her a sidelong glance as they walked in. “Friederike…?”

“I picked up the name after Fritz died.” She replied quietly, keeping her gaze forward. “And anyway, every single one of my rulers as Prussia were named Friedrich. It seemed fitting.”

“Awfully sentimental of you.” Ivan commented. After the next names were called out and they’d reached the end of their presentation, he relaxed along with Maria and ambled on toward one of the many tables set up for dinner.

“I’m an awfully sentimental person, Ivan.” She reminded him with a small laugh. “Why do you think I visit the Amber Room so much?”

“I was rather under the impression it was because you liked me and valued our friendship, for which it was given. Are you saying that’s not it?” He feigned sounding hurt, even going as far as to put on a pout.

Maria gave him a small nudge with her hip, looking away to hide her grin and blush. “No, I just really wanted some tall soldiers.” She joked, but then went on. “Of course I like you. I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t.”

“And it means so much.” He said gently. “If you’d like…we can go to the Catherine Palace after the ball?”

Maria, of course, would never pass up such an opportunity.

They ate and drank and passed the time happily, mingling with the other guests. Maria was absolutely determined to get her five minutes in with the man dressed in chainmail, which she eventually did, and spent a good amount of time listening to his accounts of fighting in the Caucasus and against the Turks.

By the time the dancing had begun, Maria was positively _buzzing_ with excitement. She joined the rest of the guests in the traditional dances she’d practiced for, and then when the crowd broke for more typical waltzes and quadrilles, she went straight for Ivan.

By all accounts, the size difference was a little awkward. Maria’s head just barely came to his shoulders, though the heels she had on did assist with that somewhat. Ivan took one of her hands in his, and the other he rested on her waist.

“You know,” Maria began as the waltz started up and they moved across the floor in time with the music. “I can’t recall ever dancing with you before.”

“That would be because we never have.” Ivan said simply.

“That’s silly. Surely there must have been an opportunity to.”

“Mm, _nyet_. You always complained about the corsets. Refused to dance because it was too uncomfortable. And when you opted for a uniform instead of dress, you never bothered because you would have stood out too much.”

“Really…?”

Ivan gave her a rather amused look. “You act as if you don’t remember. I’ve asked you to dance before on several occasions, but you declined.”

“It’s been a busy century, I guess.” They parted briefly, linked only by the hands as Maria stepped out and gave a twirl. The skirts of her dress bloomed outward as she did before she curled back in to her previous position, close to Ivan.

It was a shame it was their first time to dance together. Maria _loved_ dancing. It was the entire reason she’d spent the extra time to practice the day before; she wanted to know every step and get each one perfect.

Ivan, the large man that he was, was likely more graceful than she was. He moved like water on that dance floor, guiding Maria along when she got distracted (which was more often than she wanted to admit). When the dance called for him to lift her up, he did it with ease. His hands circled her waist and hoisted her up as if she were nothing but a sack of flour before gently bringing her back down again.

And oh, what a feeling it was to have him hold her like that.

They broke for refreshments eventually, taking time to simply watch the other guests dance and be merry. Ivan seemed happy enough, but Maria didn’t miss the small note of sadness in that smile of his.

“Hey,” She nudged him lightly, calling his attention from the dancers down to her. “What’s wrong?”

Ivan was quick to respond. “Nothing.” However, the look she gave him told him she saw right through his facade. He let out a breath, violet gaze turning back toward the dance floor. “This will likely be the last grand ball we have.” He said quietly.

“How can you be so sure…?” Maria wound her arm around his, nursing a glass of wine in her free hand.

“Intuition?” He tried, but she wasn’t satisfied with his answer so he went on. “Because I know my people…and my people are unhappy.” He said quietly. “My last emperor saw to it that everything the _previous_ emperor worked for was rescinded. And now Nicholas has inherited a nation he’s not ready to lead.” His gaze shifted off to the side, a frown forming. “He’s a good man. I enjoy his company and his family has become more or less my own, however…”

“However…?” Maria pushed gently.

“However the people want change. And if that change does not come, they will demand it. _Force_ it. I cannot begin to tell you how many leaders I have seen murdered or ousted whether in cold blood or for a political agenda. My people have never known peace because of it…” He took a breath, trying to relax. “That’s the way it’s always been for me. Nothing good ever lasts…”

“That’s not true.” Maria said softly, sliding her hand down to twine with his, giving a small reassuring squeeze. “Whatever happens, you’ll always have me.” She said, peering up at him with an easy smile.

Ivan fell quiet, catching her gaze. After a moment or two, he went back to looking out at the crowd of decorated dancers, a peculiar warmth settling in his chest as he smiled.

“Yes, I suppose I do, don’t I?”

* * *

 

_The Catherine Palace, Tsarskoye Selo_

“Y’know what I want? More’n anything in the whole entire world?”

“Another glass of wine?”

“Shuddup, I’m bein’ serious here.”

Ivan couldn’t help his dumb little smile as Maria swatted at him. They were, by all accounts, rather drunk by that point. The Ball had since ended and all the guests had gone their separate ways to retire for the night. Maria and Ivan had decided to head back to the Catherine Palace.

To their room.

They’d since switched out their costumes for more appropriate nightwear, of course. The decadent robes were simply too stuffy and stiff to allow for proper relaxation. That had certainly been an experience, trying to get out of such a complicated garments by themselves whilst inebriated.

Maria, in her drunken genius, had run through the palace and collected a menagerie of pillows and blankets and set up a most interesting display in the Amber Room. “Schloss Julchen”, she had called it. ‘It’ being a fort made entirely of the commandeered furnishings. She’d used chairs to help hold up a thick comforter over their heads, effectively making something of a plush cave in the middle of their exquisite getaway.

They had one little candle for light placed at the entrance of their cave, and a bottle of the finest red wine they could find to share between the both of them. No glasses this time, simply straight from the bottle.

“I want a family.” Maria said finally.

“You have Ludwig, don’t you?” Ivan asked confusedly, brows furrowing. Maria shook her head however.

“It’s not…that’s not the same. I want kids of my own. An’ a mom an’ dad. An’ a husband. I want to be able to get married an’ start a family.”

“What you want,” Ivan said placidly, reaching over to pull the bottle out of her hold, “is to be human.”

“Terrible, right?”

“The absolute worst.” He chuckled, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a swig. They were long past savoring the taste.

“But if I had to wish for anything, that would be it. T’just live a normal…boring life. Small apartment. Normal job. An adoring husband who answers to my every beck and call.” She sighed wistfully.

“How many kids?” Ivan asked curiously.

“At least five.”

He choked a bit, snorting wine out his nose. Maria erupted into a fit of laughter as Ivan struggled to stop the burning in his nostrils.

“ _Gospodi_ , _pohche_ —Why so many?!” Ivan gaped at her, pinching his nose shut as he spoke. It took a few moments for Maria to collect herself, though her face had turned awfully red from laughing so hard.

“I-I don’t know. It just seems like a good number?” She snatched the bottle back from him, “I like big families.” She shrugged. “That’s all I grew up with, but they were never mine, o’ course.”

Ivan sniffed, finally releasing his nose now that the sting had gone, though everything smelled of fermented grapes every time he breathed in.

The concept of a family was certainly very different for them than it was for humans. Ivan himself claimed to have two sisters, though because of their circumstances, he saw them rarely and really couldn’t claim any physical relation to them other than a common ancestor.

But, of course, even that was different for them. Maria claimed Germania as _her_ ancestor, but when it came to physically claiming to be their offspring…that was a different story.

For immortal beings who had roamed the earth for hundreds if not thousands of years, they knew very little about where they came from in terms of birth. Even some of the newer nations, like America and his northern neighbor, Canada, had been found already able to walk and speak on their own.

No physical parents to be found or any notion of them having even existed to begin with.

Maria tipped the bottle back, stealing the last few drops before tossing it aside rather carelessly. It fell to rest on the pillows spread out beneath them. “I like to imagine I was born jus’ like anybody else. I mean we’ve got bellybuttons, so it only makes sense, right?”

“Mm…I suppose.”

“But then…what happened to ‘em? Why’d we end up alone? I was found collapsed outside the city. Lutz I found just wanderin’ the streets aimlessly. An’ you…” She paused, frowning a bit as she looked at him. “You were…?”

“Left to wander the frozen wastes for several decades before I found any shred of human life.” Ivan slurred in reply. Maria’s frown deepened and she reached out to swat at him once more, smacking her hand against his chest.

“You are just such a _downer_.”

“Well you did ask.” Ivan shrugged, seemingly unbothered. After a moment he started to stretch out, resting on his back with his hands folded behind his head. “But the thought of having a mother is a nice one.” He admitted.

“I bet…I bet she was soft…” Maria said quietly, joining him in laying out over the pillows. She sprawled out a bit more than he did, however, limbs all akimbo. One of her arms laid across his chest, her head just a few inches below his arm. “Mothers are soft.”

“Not you, though.” Ivan said after a moment. Maria lifted her head to scowl. “You’re boney.”

“I am not!”

“You are too!” Ivan reached over to poke her in the ribs, eliciting a sharp peal of laughter. She immediately tried to move away, but he managed to catch her with one arm looped around her waist, pulling her back over to him. “Look! Look how easily I can lift you!”

“ _Hör auf damit_! _Das ist nicht fair_! You’re huge! You could lift anybody!” Maria squealed, wriggling in his hold and whining almost childishly. Ivan did eventually release her, but she ended up just collapsing where she laid, head resting against his shoulder.

“You cannot deny that you are rather small.” Ivan hummed, getting comfortable once more. Maria gradually shifted to face him, one arm slung lazily over his chest.

“The Thirty Years War stunted my growth.” She said petulantly. “It’s all France’s fault.”

“Not Austria’s? I would have assumed you’d pin the blame on Austria, given your histories.”

Maria mulled that one over a moment, lips pursed and brows scrunched together. It was rather amusing to watch her try to drunkenly sludge through her own thoughts. “Nah.” She finally said. “That’d mean she actually succeeded in somethin’.”

Ivan shook his head, “You are truly ridiculous, Maria.”

She grinned widely at that, peering up at him as she did. “Well at least I’m not boring, right?”

“Yes, at least there’s that.” Ivan murmured, letting his gaze slide shut for the moment as he relaxed.

Silence fell between them. A comfortable little lull in the conversation that neither of them really seemed willing to break at first. Ivan was simply happy to lay there, Maria resting next to him, tracing the patterns of his sleep shirt with her finger. Trying to, at least. The candle light did very little to illuminate the little area and Maria herself was very drunk.

Her gaze, eventually, shifted up the line of buttons to his exposed neck.

“You left your scarf off.” She said quietly.

Ivan gave a small hum. “I never sleep with it.” He replied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it…” Maria continued, lifting her hand from where it had rested against his chest. He started a bit when he felt her fingers brush against the exposed skin of his throat. Finally, his gaze opened, body tense and ready to pull away as he looked at her. “I remember this one…” Maria said softly, tracing a finger over one of several pale lines stretching over his neck.

Ivan fell still, eyes wide, looking at her in confusion. “ _Chto_ …?”

“This one here.” She emphasized, drawing her finger over the scar in question. “I remember it. I stitched it up.” Her crystalline gaze shifted up toward his. “When we first met. Remember?”

Ivan couldn’t hold her stare for very long. Embarrassment? Shame? He wasn’t sure what made him look away. He wore his scarf to hide most of those scars, after all. Maria was close enough she could see them all if she wanted. Could see how some were jagged and rough, as if made by a dull blade. Or how some followed all the way around to form one complete circle.

He felt utterly exposed now that she had pointed it out. As well as they knew each other, there was still quite a lot he hadn’t shared with her. No doubt the same could be said of Maria, of course. There were some things that were just not meant to be shared. Living immortal lives as they did, they often survived the most gruesome situations one could imagine…

When she started to splay her fingers out over the marred skin, he finally reached up to grab her hand and gently pull it away. “Stop,” He asked quietly, still refusing to meet her gaze, “please.”

Maria shifted, pushing herself upright so she was hovering over him. “It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of, Ivan…” She said quietly. Her hand pulled free, gently cupping his cheek, coaxing him to look back up at her. “We’ve all got scars.”

The candle light was dim and flickered uncertainly, casting wavering shadows all about them. He could just make out the scar on her cheek in the waning light. It was a clean cut. Just a thin pale line stretching over her skin. Slowly, he lifted a hand to trace his thumb over the mark, much like she had done his. She’d told him the story of how she’d gotten that particular one, but Ivan started wandering what other scars she had hidden away under the fabric of her nightgown and what stories they held. Hesitantly, he let his fingers dip back into her hair, which fell around them in loose waterfalls of white curls.

Dimly, he was aware of the sensation of her curling her fingers into his hair. Her fingertips lightly scraped against his scalp, sending pleasant little tingles all over and waves of warmth over every inch of him. His face, he was convinced, must’ve been on fire, it was so impossibly warm.

Silence once more fell between them, but there was something decidedly more intimate about it this time. Ivan’s gaze flickered from the scar on her cheek up to her stare, which was hooded and oddly focused.

Ivan held his breath…

…and Maria leaned in.

* * *

**1961**

_Nations' Estate, Moscow_

It was still early morning when he found her, curled up in front of the hearth of the study, eyes puffy and nose bright red. The sun had yet to even peak over the horizon, the house still bathed in darkness and quiet. Ivan didn’t enter the room completely; however, he did nudge the door open and lean against the door-frame to watch her.

Maria didn’t acknowledge his presence at first, her gaze was kept forward, glued to the flickering amber light of the flames dancing before her.

“Do you really intend to go the rest of your days here without speaking to me…?”

Maria slowly shifted her gaze toward him, looking him up and down briefly before she turned back toward the dancing embers of the hearth. Ivan folded his arms across his chest, watching her silently as he waited for her answer.

“I was doing a pretty good job until just now.” She sniffed, idly swiveling a glass of what Ivan knew not to be water in her hand. The ice cubes clinked together, filling the silence that followed.

“I suppose you’re still content to spend your days in a drunk stupor.” He added dryly.

She flashed him a sloppy and mirthless grin. “Not like you do much better, _Herr Russland_ ,” she even raised her glass mockingly before knocking it back, “or perhaps you’re too busy building walls to indulge.” She added bitterly.

“You know just as well as I do it was necessary.”

“Was it really, though?”

He watched as she grabbed the bottle beside her to refill her drink.

Ivan looked down at the floor briefly, scuffing his shoe against the carpet. “Too many people were leaving.” He finally said.

“Mm, why is that, I wonder?” She said rather facetiously. “Maybe the food’s not like it used to be?”

“East.”

“Maybe they’re just too scared and miserable.”

“ _Prussia_.”

She gave him such a lethal look, piercing eyes glaring at him over her shoulder. “Or maybe they’re just pissed the fuck off and would rather be… what’s that American phrase? ‘Better dead than Red’?” Her lips curled up into a crooked smile. “Gotta nice ring to it. Al was always good at those silly rhymes.”

Ivan clenched his jaw, willing himself to keep his gaze steady despite how badly he wanted to turn and walk away.

This was all wrong.

“Is that how you feel?”

This was all _wrong_. This had not been what he wanted. He’d thought she’d be _safe_. That she’d be recovering. But everything he did, everything his bosses had him do, made everything so much worse. And now…?

Maria looked away, tipping back her glass to finish off her drink once more.

She’d become a stranger to him. Cold, distant, careless. The way she looked at him no longer held the warmth and adoration it did before. It was like ice, her gaze, and it made his heart ache so badly the scar on his chest threatened to pull apart.

“What do _you_ think?” She bit out sourly.

Ivan drew in a breath, biting down on the inside of his cheek so harshly he drew blood. “I think I want you to leave.” He said quietly.

Maria cast a curious glance his way. “Am I grounded?”

“I want you to go back to Berlin. _East_ Berlin.” He clarified. “I’m tired of this.”

Maria pursed her lips, humming. “Just like that?”

“You won’t be allowed in the west.” He reminded her. “I could care less if you went to Bucharest or Warsaw, but I want you gone.”

Her expression pinched up just the slightest for a split second, almost as if she were about to cry. But just as quickly, the expression faded and she looked away and smiled.

“I’ll drink to that.” She said, filling her glass with the last dregs from the bottle. “I’ll write you.” She added in amusedly.

“No,” Ivan said tersely, pushing off the doorframe and turning to leave, “you won’t.”

She let out a bitter laugh at that, lifting her drink up in a toast. “You’re right,” she grinned, and it was as empty and cold as the very house felt, “I won’t.”

This was not what he had wanted.

* * *

  **1867**

 _The Catherine Palace, Tsarskoye Selo_  

“Okay, okay. I got one.” Maria started, setting her glass of wine off to the side. Ivan watched her rather bemusedly as she tried to gather her thoughts, face pinched up in concentration. “Battle on the Ice. You remember that one, right?”

“Of course.” Ivan replied placidly. “You lost that one quite fantastically.”

“My _knights_ lost it quite fantastically.” She corrected. “I didn’t do any fighting. But I bet if I had, I’d’ve won.”

“If that’s what helps you to sleep at night.” He shrugged.

Maria scowled at him, waving a hand to signal it was time for Ivan to be quiet.

It was late in the evening, nothing but candle light to illuminate the room, casting faceted reflections off the gemstones and amber which danced about them. They were sprawled out on the floor, a makeshift pallet of thick blankets and pillows spread out beneath them for comfort.

She had showed up unannounced, and unhappy. That much was obvious by how utterly _quiet_ she had been; a rarity to be sure. Ivan was certainly no psychic, but the timing of her visit made it rather obvious why she was there. It was the end of March, and the kingdoms of Austria and Hungary were joining together in a constitutional dual monarchy.

They were to be married that very day.

“My men came back terrified,” She went on, “tellin’ stories of— of this pale soldier who breathed ice an’ snow an’ chilled you to the bone at a single touch. I thought they were talkin’ about you, but turns out they thought it was this old man. The spirit of all those claimed by the cold.” She said ominously. “Can you believe that? Humans get so spooked by the silliest things.”

Ivan pursed his lips a bit, giving her an odd look. “Actually…” He started, watching as Maria picked up her glass once more and went to down the rest of it in one gulp. “I believe the figure you’re speaking of exists.”

Maria scowled. “You sayin’ you believe in ghosts…?”

“I’m saying I’ve met the man before.” Ivan moved to snatch the bottle of wine out of her reach before she could grab it. She let out a rather pitiful whine, but he ignored it. “He goes by the name General Winter, or…at least that’s what I call him. He’s a dear friend of mine. Sort of.”

“How d’you mean?” Maria asked, in the middle of trying to crawl over his lap to grab the bottle. Ivan amusedly held it just outside of her clutches, a dumb little smile finding its way onto his features as he watched her struggle.

“Well…” Ivan finally shifted, setting the bottle of wine further off from her grasp despite her protests. It was rather easy to accomplish considering he had a larger range of movement than her scrawny physique would allow. “For the longest time, he was all I had in company.” He said simply.

Maria fell still, looking curious. “How long was that…?”

“Well over a century or two, I’m sure. I can’t say for certain.” He plucked her empty wine glass off the pillows where she’d left it and set that aside too, but this time she didn’t make any move to grab it back. She’d finally sat upright again, seated next to him.

“But what about your…?”

“My sisters were not always around. They had their own people to attend to, after all.” Ivan said gently. “I was just a child and I was left on my own. But General Winter was there when I needed him. He never spoke. Never actually gave me a name to call him by, but he most certainly exists.”

Maria stared down at her lap for a good few moments, lips puckered a bit as she thought. “Did you know,” she finally began, lifting her gaze to meet Ivan’s, “I didn’t know what I was for the longest time?”

“A common occurrence with us, I would think.” Ivan mumbled around his own glass. “Not every nation-person is born with someone there to tell them who they are.”

“I certainly didn’t get that luxury.” Maria frowned, rubbing at her nose roughly. “I jus’ remember wakin’ up outside of town in this camp. They’d pitched up a sail for a tent an’ used it as a hospital. No one knew who I was or where I came from, just that they’d found me collapsed in the desert. No family. No friends. No name…” She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders lazily. “Nothin’. I was just…alone. And lookin’ as I do, people were always really hesitant to speak with me. After ten years had gone by an’ I still looked like I was six years old, they noticed something was _definitely_ wrong.”

Ivan watched as she hunched forward a bit, arms folded across her chest and knees pulled in. Her German accent was slipping through quite a bit more than usual, but that was easily attributed to having had three glasses of wine. It was a little odd hearing her typically fluent French marred by her native tongue.

“Elik was the first nation-person I met.” She said quietly, fondly almost. “He was the one who explained to me who I was. Why I was there. I finally had someone like me. Finally knew I wasn’t alone and…” And then she grimaced, looking for the most part like she was about to cry, but then a moment later and she was scowling, huffing irately. “And of course my people messed that up. They kicked us out of the Burzenland pretty quick. I think Elik at least knew I didn’t have any control over what was happenin’ at the time. I hope he did, anyway…” She added quietly.

“You never asked…?”

“Never had the chance to.” She corrected, looking back up at Ivan. “I had to beg the Grandmaster to let me on the field. To be allowed to do anythin’ other than jus’…sittin’ in a dumb churchyard readin’ scripture and polishing the silver. But he wouldn’t let me fight. Not like I was capable of it, anyway. No one would train me.”

“Elik did teach me a little bit, though.” She rested her chin on her knees, watching one of the candles flicker. “He was the first person to think I was capable of anythin’ other than hospital work. That I wasn’t just some dumb girl.” Her nose scrunched up, as if she’d tasted something fowl. “But, anyway… I knew how to stitch wounds and mend broken bones, and that convinced the Grandmaster to let me out into the world. I helped people. Anyone I could to feel like I was makin’ a difference.”

“You certainly did.” Ivan said quietly, casting his gaze off to the side. His lips quirked up at the edges a bit, an amused look crossing his features. “In fact, when I woke up to find you helping me the first time, I believed you were an angel trying to escort me into the afterlife.” He gave a small laugh, which only grew when he saw the look of incredulity on Maria’s face. “It’s true! What else was I supposed to believe? I was delirious and half dead and there was a beautiful young woman with pearly white hair before me.”

“Don’t make up silly stuff like that, it’s not nice!” Maria huffed, cheeks puffing up in a childish pout.

“I do not lie, Masha. That was truly what I believed at the time.”

She hesitated a moment, eyeing him almost in a suspicious manner. “At the time?” She quoted. “Well what do you believe _now_ , Herr Braginsky?”

“Much the same, really.” He admitted with a light shrug of the shoulders. “Although I certainly don’t consider you as graceful as I once did.”

Ivan honestly couldn’t tell if the red in her cheeks was from the wine, or from embarrassment. Regardless, Maria managed to keep (most of) her composure intact. She gave him a light shove, huffing indignantly.

“I’m graceful! I am the essence of grace!” She defended.

“You refuse to wear dresses unless absolutely necessary.” Ivan said placidly, taking the opportunity to give his nails a once over. “You never keep up with your hair, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you in anything other than boots.”

That landed him a harsh smack against the back of his head. He gave a small grunt, rubbing at the offended area before looking back to Maria with a frown.

“The dresses are uncomfortable, my hair’s always been a mess, and boots are _stylish_!” She scowled at him as if he’d actually offended her. And for all he knew, perhaps he had?

“Maria,” Ivan sat up a bit straighter, “you are misunderstanding. Just because you lack grace, does not mean you lack beauty.” He clarified.

Ivan watched as Maria processed what he’d said. Watched her avert her gaze and turn red at the ears, confusion taking over her features. “So…” she started, voice quiet at first, “so you think…I’m beautiful?” She looked so sheepish when she asked it, glancing at him sideways but unwilling to look at him more than a few moments.

Ivan didn’t have to consider his answer in the slightest. “More so than this very room.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Why would I lie about something so silly?” He frowned, reaching over to fill the glass he’d commandeered earlier before handing it to her. Perhaps one more wouldn’t do too much harm, considering the occasion. She didn’t immediately go to drink it, however; too distracted with the query at hand.

Maria had a hundred reasons why she wasn’t pretty. She had centuries worth of insults from humans and nation-people alike filed away in her memories. Too pale. Too scrawny. Too short. Covered in scars that one would only see on a seasoned soldier well into his later years. The list went on.

Ivan fixed himself another glass as well, sipping at it quietly as he watched Maria.

“I guess I’m just used to people treatin’ me different because of how I look.” She finally said, eyeing her glass as she spoke. “It’s not normal. Nothing about me’s normal.”

Ivan fell silent, watching as Maria quietly sipped at her wine, gaze off to the side. It took some time to formulate the words he wanted. Whether it was on account of the drink, or the personal nature of the topic, he couldn’t say.

“I didn’t have as many problems when I was a child.” He admitted. “At most, my eyes were what put people off and I was rather awkward. Still am. But now…” He tilted his head a bit, lips pressed into a thin line. “People, even other nations like myself, are much too intimidated to approach me most times.”

“What?” Maria started a bit, looking at him wide eyed. “That’s ridiculous. Why? You’re the sweetest man I know! Yer like a big friendly teddy bear!”

“Well,” he had to take a moment to fight off the mix of amusement and embarrassment before he continued, “I don’t know if you have noticed, but I am rather _large_ compared to an ordinary human.”

“Well we’re not exactly ordinary humans to begin with, are we?” She replied a bit tersely. Ivan fell quiet, looking at her almost expectantly as the words sank into the silence that followed. Recognition flitted across her features several moments later, and she relaxed once more, letting out a soft “oh”.

“I’ve learned that comparing oneself to the human population is a futile effort,” he explained, “because regardless of how similar we are, at the root of it all, we are vastly different creatures than they are.”

Longer lives. More durable. A nation-person could take a harder hit than a human could and still survive. They healed so much more quickly compared to their mortal counterparts. There were stories of nations surviving all sorts of gruesome deaths, even decapitation. They were never down for the count more than a day or two before they were back on their feet and back in the game. The only exception would be when national affairs were the cause of the affliction. Crashing economy, revolutions…the list of possibilities was endless, really.

“I cannot speak for the humans, but as far as nation-people go, you are, in fact, very beautiful, Masha.” Ivan said quietly.

Maria tried to hide her smile by ducking her head down, hair falling in the way of her face. She relaxed, finally, leaning into him with her head resting against his shoulder. “You’re drunk.” She said, trying to discredit him.

“Off two glasses of wine? Hardly.” Ivan gave a small laugh. “Clearly you have not tried Vodka before. Though I think for you, that would be a terrible idea.”

“How d’you mean?”

“For the personification of the German people,” he started, “you are absolutely abysmal at holding your liquor.”

“I am not! I hold it just fine! See?” And Ivan watched as Maria, quite literally, held up her glass to show just how well she ‘held her liquor’. “Haven’t spilled it once!”

“ _Gospodi,_ Mashunya…”

She erupted into a fit of giggles, toppling over onto her back. She very nearly upended her glass of wine onto her face, however Ivan swiftly snatched it from her hands before she had a chance to do so. He set it safely off to the side before sinking down next to her. Eventually her laughter died out and she let out a long breath, a soft smile on her features.

But then she looked away and her expression seemed to fall, brows pulling together. Ivan watched as her drunkenly giddy attitude shrank away, leaving her looking remarkably small and vulnerable.

“I could’ve stopped him from marrying her…” She said quietly, voice so soft Ivan had to strain to hear it. “He gave me the option.”

He hesitated, unsure if he should ask or simply let it be. The silence that lingered demanded he do the former. “So why didn’t you…?” Ivan gently prodded. “You’re only here because…” He trailed off, rather unwilling to finish the sentence as he felt it wasn’t his place.

“Because I love him too much to see him marry another woman?” Maria finished for him. Ivan drew in a breath, the words a lot less pleasant than he anticipated them sounding. He looked away, casting his gaze toward the opulent ceiling hanging before them.

“ _Da_.” He felt her eyes settle on him.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t.” She admitted. “Maybe I just knew it was a bad idea.”

“These things are rather…” he paused, hunting for the word, “delicate.” He settled on. “I don’t know a nation-person alive who’s successfully sustained a… _relationship_ of that sort for very long.”

“Neither have I…” Maria agreed solemnly. “One has to wonder if it’s even possible.”

Ivan felt her eyes on him again, waiting for his response. He shifted, unwilling to look back her direction. “I don’t believe it is. Not for our kind. There’s too much at stake. Too much to interfere.”

“So that’s it…? We’re jus’ doomed to live our lives in miserable solitude?”

“I suppose so. Yes.”

Maria finally shifted, climbing onto her hands and knees to crawl her way over to the wine. Ivan didn’t stop her when she nabbed the bottle instead of her portioned glass. She sat back, a sour look on her face.

“Fuck whoever made that decision.” She bit out sourly, and tipped the bottle back to drink.

 


	4. Brother

**1851**

_Hyde Park, London_

“What would you even do with a gem that big?” Ivan asked bemusedly.

“Hang it on my ceiling so it’s the last thing I see before I go to bed every night?” Maria supplied, nose still pressed to the bars of the cage as she ogled the large stone before them. “Have it cut and polished, set it in a ring.”

“Monstrous ring that’d be. I don’t think your dainty fingers could handle the weight.”

“For a diamond that big? It’s worth the suffering.”

Maria finally pulled back, a bright smile on her features. Ivan watched quietly beside her as other patrons circled the display of the Koh-i-Noor. The large diamond glittered fabulously on its satin pillow, mesmerizing the onlookers with its sheer size. Not far away, a similar display captured the audiences fancy.

“I still think the Daria would suit you better.” Ivan remarked offhandedly, gaze shifting from face to face idly. “It’d complement your eyes quite nicely.”

The venue was absolutely buzzing with activity. Hundreds if not thousands of people had gathered in the Glass Palace, eager to look at the new and upcoming inventions of the world and all the different niceties countries had to offer. Gems and machinery and all sorts of nonsense that piqued the peoples fancy. Nations from all across the globe had decided to take part, offering their best.

The Great Exhibition, needless to say, was a great success.

Maria looped her arm around Ivan’s, guiding him away from the gemstones to venture through the rest of the menagerie. Ivan contentedly kept pace beside her as they walked.

“How is your new ward? Last I heard he was struggling quite a bit.”

“Still sick as ever,” she shrugged, “but every day is an improvement. We’ve been working hard to stabilize the Confederation, but all the states are content to do their own thing. Doesn’t do Ludwig any good.”

“He has a name now?”

“Picked it out myself. Like it?”

Ivan deliberated. “It’s very…” he pursed his lips, “German.”

Maria tossed her head back in a short laugh. “I should hope so! What, you think I’d name him something _French_? Or were you hoping for a more Slavic name?”

Ivan discreetly nudged into her, looking off to the side with a wide smile. “Dimitri would have been a nice name for him I think.” He teased.

“In your dreams, Big Guy. Ludwig is perfect. A nice strong name that he’s sure to grow into. I’m gonna make sure of that.”

“Oh?” Ivan cast a glance down to her briefly. “I’m sensing a plot in the works. Should I be worried?”

“Always.” She flashed a grin. “Ever since those revolutions three years ago there’s been calls for reform.”

“Hence the revolutions in the first place.” Ivan said rather dryly. Maria rolled her eyes, but continued.

“My ultimate goal is to pull the states together into one unified Germany. The problem is getting my bosses on board. I haven’t found the right man.” Her attention was briefly caught by a loom display that had been powered up, churning out textiles in a mesmerizing manner. “It won’t be as simple as having a nice talk over tea, unfortunately.”

“When is it ever?” Ivan slowed as they passed another…intriguing display. He scowled a bit, leaning in to take a better look. “Are those…leeches?”

“What?!” Maria started a bit and followed his gaze, only to let out a shrill squeal. Ivan grimaced, as did several other onlookers. “ _Pfui teufel! Das is ekelhaft!_ ” She shuddered rather visibly and rapidly turned away, looking thoroughly disgusted. Ivan stifled a laugh at her ridiculous overreaction.

“I take it you’re not a fan?”

“Disgusting vampire slugs.”

“They have their uses. You of all people should know that.” Ivan said amusedly, ushering her away from the exhibit. “Unifying the German states.” He hummed. “That seems quite the undertaking.”

Maria seemed grateful for the resumption of their previous topic. She let out a breath, shoulders sagging a bit. “You’re telling me.” She grumbled. “But it’s not impossible. That’s what matters. In the long run, it’ll be worth it, even if I have to make a few enemies. With the states united, we’ll have a sturdier nation under our feet. Ludwig will recover, grow stronger…”

“Where does that leave you after it’s all said and done?” Ivan asked curiously, glancing her way. He watched as her head tilted a bit. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek, contemplating how to answer.

“Prussia will still be the seat of power,” she clarified, “but ultimately Ludwig will be the main representative. I’ll be more or less a state _within_ the empire, while Ludwig represents _all_ the states combined.”

Ivan hesitated a moment, slowing to a standstill. “You’re giving up your spot as a full-fledged nation.” It wasn’t a question. Maria shuffled anxiously next to him, gaze pointedly focused elsewhere.

“More or less.”

“Not more or less.” Ivan frowned. “You _are._ Anyone else would think the same. After everything you’ve worked for, you’re simply going to stand aside and let someone else take your place?”

“That’s not—” Maria let out a frustrated breath, finally looking back up toward Ivan. “The goal is to pull together a German _Empire_ ,” she explained, “with Prussia as the seat of power. Think… Think Holy Rome. A conglomerate of states with one as the main source of authority. Wilhelm will still be in charge; I still get to call the shots. Ludwig and I _both_ benefit. Or he does, anyway, my situation is much the same.”

“Except it’s his name on the world map, not yours.”

She faltered, casting her gaze to the floor. Ivan slowly pulled his arm loose, moving to stand in front of her.

“Maria—”

“If I don’t do this, he’ll die.”

Ivan fell quiet. He watched as Maria finally lifted her gaze, staring at him steadily. She’d gone rather rigid, stance much more akin to a soldiers rather than a lady enjoying the sights. She did not waver, hands curled into loose fists by her sides.

“I won’t go through that again.” She went on. “I refuse.”

Ivan drew in a breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot rather anxiously. The thought of it nagged at him, made him uneasy. But he knew Maria well enough that he trusted her judgement. She was reckless, but only where it didn’t matter. When it came to national affairs, she was very intelligent in her political maneuvers.

So he let the topic fall to rest at that. Nothing more than a mute nod, and the conversation was over.

“What shall we look at next?” He asked instead. Maria immediately relaxed, a smile already settling into place.

“I say we visit one of Francis’ exhibits. There’s a man named Deguerre here that has a _very_ interesting invention I’d like to take a look at.”

Ivan offered his arm once more, which Maria took happily. “Lead the way, _barynya_.”

* * *

  **1872**

 _Stadtschloss, Berlin_  

The political map was always changing. It seemed every year some bit of land was ceded or taken by force, or a piece of a nation decided to break off and declare itself independent. The revolutions of 1848 had made their mark, yet even some twenty odd years later, powers were still shifting.

In the last few years alone, Maria had made sure of that. It took several different wars and a few broken alliances, but she’d worked long and hard to achieve her goal of a united German Empire.

All for the sake of a little boy.

Ivan wasn’t stupid. Nobody was. The boy she called Ludwig was the spitting image of the former Holy Roman Empire. There was no telling if he was one and the same, especially considering he had no memory of what transpired before his being found by Maria.

But he had the same flaxen blond hair and robin’s egg blue eyes. Even his demeanor was strikingly similar to the boy who Maria had once called her little brother.

He looked a little older, though, and now that the German states had finally been united and he was on the road to recovery, he was starting to age up a bit more with every passing month. They were in the midst of a booming industrial revolution. Workers were pouring in and the economy was bustling. The sickly boy Maria had found wandering the streets aimlessly was finally looking a little sturdier and well taken care of.

But he still had bad dreams.

Then again, what nation-person didn’t?

It had been the sound of the flute that had woken him up. It wasn’t an unpleasant noise; quite the opposite, really, but it was out of place from the silence he had relaxed into. By the time he had reached the source of the noise, shuffling tiredly down the hall, it had stopped.

The door to Ludwig’s room was ajar, and Ivan hesitantly eased it open to take a peak, watching as Maria lowered her flute and looked on at the now sleeping child.

“I didn’t know you could play.”

Maria jumped a bit, her wide gaze snapping toward the door where Ivan now stood. Her mouth bobbed open like a fish momentarily before she finally regained her composure.

“I haven’t really played much since Fritz passed. Did I wake you…?” She asked warily. Ivan waved his hand dismissively, however, stepping a little further into the room. Maria shuffled anxiously, already beginning to twist the flute pieces apart and store them away in their case. “It, uh…it helps him sleep…” She explained. “He’s always had bad dreams. They were worse before, but every once in a while—“

“You don’t have to explain, Maria.” Ivan reassured. “I understand.” His gaze slid back to the sleeping boy, head tilting just the slightest.

“They look a lot alike, don’t they…?” Maria quietly fastened the case shut with a soft click, keeping her gaze down. Ivan only granted a soft hum in acknowledgement. “I thought I was hallucinating when I first found him. But I don’t…I don’t think it’s actually…” She trailed off, grimacing. “At least, if he is, there’s no way to know.”

“You weren’t there when he passed away…?” Ivan asked cautiously.

Maria was quiet for a few moments, gnawing away at the inside of her cheek. “He disappeared.” She finally said. “Not…Not _literally_.” She clarified. “But he took off before things went south. I’m surprised he could have, considering how sick he’d been. But he had his reasons, I suppose…”

“And you never told anyone…?”

“Didn’t really see any reason to.” Maria rubbed at her nose with the sleeve of her nightgown, tucking the flute case under her other arm. “Everyone’s always wanted answers on how it is we die, but perhaps it’s a good thing we never get them?” She glanced toward Ivan briefly, who had wrapped his ever present scarf back over his shoulders and hugged his robe tightly around himself. “Or maybe I was just being selfish? I don’t know…”

“I imagine I would have done the same if it had been one of my sisters.” Ivan supplied softly. “But doesn’t it bother you how similar they look…?”

Maria sucked in a deep breath, lips pressing together tightly. She gave a mute nod at first, but eventually she explained a bit further. “Every day. He…He looks a little older, and I imagine as he ages it won’t bother me as much. But when I first found him I felt like God was playing some sort of cruel trick on me.”

“I find God rather likes to do such things.”

“Never took you for a religious man.” Maria frowned.

“I’m not.” Ivan replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “You?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to break from the mold.” She gave a sheepish smile. “Still stubbornly catholic, despite what my people have decided for themselves. But certainly not the nun I used to be.” He scowled a bit at that. “That’s right, Braginsky, I was a _nun_. Took vows and everything.”

“You’re joking…”

Maria shook her head, finally stepping away from Ludwig’s bedside to shoo Ivan out the door. He begrudgingly turned and slipped into the hallway, followed by Maria who shut the door behind them. “There really wasn’t much else for me to do.” She went on. “I was just a kid, so they kind of raised me that way. If I’d cropped my hair short, I probably would have been able to trick them into thinking I was a boy.”

“I doubt it.” Ivan hummed. “You have a very feminine face.”

“Says the man with mile long eyelashes.” Maria snorted. Ivan harrumphed and pointedly turned his gaze away from her. “Anyway, I took my vows and did my work, but I think the life of a nun is only meant to be spent in one normal _human_ life time. Not the equivalent of four. So when I finally became a Duchy I kind of just…” Maria paused, her lips curling up into the goofiest grin Ivan had ever seen on her, “kicked the Habit.”

Ivan stopped dead in his tracks and _glowered_ at her. “That was the worst thing I have ever heard anyone say in my life.” He said flatly. “And I have lived a _very_ long life, Masha.” Maria thought otherwise. She had erupted into a fit of giggles, trying to stifle the noise behind her hand as their voices echoed through the halls.

“It was _funny_! How could I not?!”

“ _Bozhe,_ it’s too late for this. I’m going back to bed. _Dobroy nochi_ , Maria.”

“Now wait a minute, hey! Oh come on, Ivan, stay up just a little longer with me…?” She grabbed at his sleeve to hold him in place. Ivan stilled, glancing first at her hand, and then at her face. Maria anxiously stared back, and only when Ivan finally conceded did she relax and let go.

“It bothers you more than you’re willing to admit.” He said, finally getting around to tying off his robe so he could shove his hands in the pockets. “The way he looks.” He clarified.

Maria flinched, her happy mood dispersing just as quickly as it had come on. “That obvious, huh?”

“You’ve always been easy to read, Maria.” Ivan said gently as they began to amble down the hall once more. The pace was slow, a comfortable speed to walk side by side and converse to. The silence that hung between them was eventually broken by Maria’s heavy sigh. She shifted the flute case from under her arm, clutching it against her chest instead.

“I used to play for Holy Rome when he was sick, too.” She explained. “He was…he was a lot worse off. He was actively dying and every day he got more and more sick. When I’d play for him he’d fall asleep and… Well it hurt less for him when he was asleep.

Ludwig was worse starting out. He had a lot of body aches and migraines, but as I started pulling the states together, he got better. Now it’s just nightmares, but he won’t ever tell me what they’re about.” Maria glanced up at Ivan briefly. “You ever get nightmares?”

“Yes.” Ivan said, but did little to elaborate more on the matter. Maria took notice, and decided not to press the issue.

“They were a lot worse for me when I was younger.” She admitted. “I didn’t…well, they didn’t make it easy for me growing up. I was constantly reprimanded. When they found out I was left handed—“

“You are?” Ivan looked at her rather incredulously.

“ _Was_.” She emphasized. “I use my right hand, now.”

“I suppose that explains the handwriting.” Ivan mumbled.

“Ah, yeah.” She gave a short laugh, looking sheepishly at the floor. “They used to punish me when I used my left. Even broke it a few times to keep me from using it. If it wasn’t my left handedness, it was my manners, or my attitude, or the way I talked. They got on to me for just about everything. They used to tell me I had a bit of the devil in me, and really, for a kid who was raised devoutly religious, that was terrifying.”

“And…and you’re _still_ religious?” Ivan clarified, frowning. “After all that?”

“You could say they beat the fear of God into me.” Maria shrugged, brushing it off rather disturbingly. “I told you, my time in the Order was probably the hardest I’ve ever gone through. They kept me secluded so all I had were books to keep me company for the longest time. Most of the men didn’t really want anything to do with me. Some even thought I was a witch.” She gave a nervous laugh. “My uh…y’know, inability to die and perpetual youth didn’t exactly help that. But I never got put on the stake, so there’s that.”

Maria talked a lot. That was something Ivan had noticed _very_ early on. She was a chatterbox and she could talk about nearly anything and everything. He was finally starting to understand why. Despite centuries having passed since her time in the order, she had grown up a very lonely child. Hungary had been her first friend, as far as Ivan could recall, but even then the Order had kept her on a short leash.

It occurred to Ivan that Maria talked so much, because growing up, she’d never had anyone to truly converse with.

It was dismaying, yes, but comforting to know Ivan hadn’t been the only one to grow up lonely.

“Is that where you got your scar?” He asked, motioning vaguely toward her cheek. Maria touched at it lightly, looking for the briefest moments ashamed of it.

“Yes and no.” She answered. “I was still in the Order, but it wasn’t anyone in it who gave it to me.” Her hand dropped back down to clutch at the case in her arms, chewing on her bottom lip momentarily before she started speaking again. “When we relocated to the Baltics, they had started up a campaign to Christianize the pagans that lived there. Sort of a northern crusade, since the one in the middle east wasn’t exactly going in our favor. That was around the time our two parties collided.” She reminded him. Ivan gave a small ‘ah’ of recollection.

“We had lost a battle and surrendered, and I was helping tend to the wounded, both mine and theirs.” She went on. “And all of a sudden, things just…” She shook her head, a bitter look crossing her features. “We’d already laid down our weapons. We were defenseless. We were willing to _negotiate_ , but these men… Even after they’d won the fight, they went the extra step to slaughter the survivors and any prisoners they’d taken. Men I had tended to, who would have _made_ it, ended up cut down in front of me. I watched them put a man’s head on a spike, a man I had known personally for _years_.

And in the midst of it all, this stranger I had never seen before threw a sword down in front of me and ordered me to pick it up.”

“Another nation…?” Ivan asked hesitantly. Maria gave a nod.

“He represented all the different tribes. I think he found it rather humiliating to know it was _me_ who represented the men who were pushing his people to the brink of extinction. He was…well he was about like you. Big and burly, only a lot hairier and less well kept. Smelled bad too.” She added with a short snort. “He lifted that sword like it was nothing more than a tooth pick, and there I was, barely even half a century old, struggling to hold it with both hands.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going…” Ivan grumbled, scowling ahead of them as they walked.

Maria suddenly stood up straighter and puffed out her chest, adapting a funny accent when she spoke next. “You are nothing but a _girl_ ,” She mimicked, voice as low and gruff as she could make it. “My people see me as a _God_. But you? Your people see you as nothing more than their serving wench. What can you possibly do to harm me? You are nothing.” And then, using her flute case as a stand in for a sword, she jabbed at the empty air in front of them in a parry. “And you will _never_ be anything.” Then she relaxed and her voice resumed its typical soprano. “And then he cut me down like I was nothing more than a melted stick of butter.”

“ _But_ ,” Maria started, “if it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have worked as hard as I had to get where I am. It was traumatizing, yes, but it gave me the push I needed to be, well, _more_.”

“How is it that such a sweet woman like you has gone through such awful things?”

“I could ask the same about you.” Maria hummed, tucking the flute back under her arm. Ivan faltered a bit as they walked, giving her a rather skeptical look. “I suppose it’s just an occupational hazard.”

“I rather wish whatever cosmic entity decided to make it so, hadn’t. Or at least had the courtesy to ask us first…”

Maria gave a small laugh and nudged against him lightly. “I agree on some points, but I’m fairly glad they didn’t.”

“Even after everything you’ve gone through…?” Ivan asked dubiously.

She nodded, expression softening. “Sure, there’s been a lot of bad, but there’s been plenty of good, too. I try to focus on that more than anything. We all go through trying times, but in the end we learn from them and we become better people for it. It’s one thing to try and push through it all alone, but I’ve at least had the good fortune to have people help me along the way, human and nation alike.”

Ivan wanted to disagree, but even he had to admit her words rung true. His life was by no means a shining example of a _good_ one, but there were certainly good things that had come out of it.

Most of which, he realized, tended to involve Maria.

* * *

  **1807**

_Tilsit, East Prussia_

Francis leaned back in his seat, gaze still lingering on the freshly signed pages clutched in his fingers. The second treaty in two days had finally been signed, conceding victory to the Grand Armée. The contents of the agreement, however, didn’t quite sit well with him. All it took was a look toward the shore, at the weary and weak figure struggling up the slope, to make the guilt rise in his throat like bile.

Maria staggered away, heavily supported by her Queen, Louise. Not far off, Francis could spy the looming silhouette of Ivan cast in the waning sunlight. He could feel the violet gaze boring into him from across the distance, and it set his nerves on end.

“This is not what I wanted.” Francis said calmly, turning his gaze toward the man seated across from him as he rested the papers back on the table. Napoleon leaned back in his seat, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap.

“It should be. It’s a victory, my friend, how could you want anything else for your nation?”

“I want the best for my nation.” Francis corrected, leaning forward to fold his arms on the table between them. “I want a lot of things, but making enemies where they’re not needed is certainly not among them.”

“Those two are no longer our enemies.” Napoleon frowned, reaching out to tap a finger against the papers Francis had laid down. “They’re our allies.”

“They’re our _subjects_. They might as well be prisoners. You gave them little choice in the matter—”

“I gave them plenty of choice, Francis. The Prussian King is nothing but a cowardly pacifist with a wife who has bigger balls than he does. He was more than willing to sign away his lands and resources.”

“After what you’ve done to their nation, is it any wonder? The royal family can’t even reside in their own home. The Holy Roman Empire is officially _dead_ because of this war.”

“That Empire was bound to fall eventually. It was much too weak to maintain power.” Napoleon straightened a bit in his seat, frowning quite heavily. “I put him out of his misery.”

“You put the blood of a mere _child_ on my hands.” Francis hissed. “You’ve turned a woman I adored and trusted against me. You’ve brought the ire of _Russia_ against _us_.”

“ _With_ us. We have their support.” Napoleon interrupted.

“Your mistake is believing they will bend to our will without question because of a flimsy sheet of paper. These things aren’t as binding as you believe them to be. I know those two. Ivan and Maria are not the type to simply roll over and concede victory to whoever looks at them wrong.” Francis snapped. “I’ve fought side by side with them, _against_ them. They are—” he faltered, “ _were_ , my friends.” He amended.

“And here I was under the impression your kind didn’t take to making friends amongst each other.” Napoleon hummed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a snuff box.

“We’re more than capable.” Francis bit out tersely, finally rising to his feet. “The only thing that keeps us from _retaining_ them is people like _you_ , monsieur.”

* * *

 Maria had collapsed the moment they made it back to camp. Louise did her best to get her settled into the cot. She tucked a rolled blanket beneath her head and fetched a damp washcloth to rest on her brow.

Ivan stood a few paces away, watching silently.

“ _Dieser Mann ist ein Monster_ …” Louise hissed, sitting on the edge of the cot as she fussed over Maria. “ _Ich habe Worte f_ _ü_ _r meinen Mann so schnell abzuschreiben. Ich habe zu ihm gesacht soll nicht so hastig sein._ ”

Ivan’s gaze flickered briefly to the Queen’s stomach, which by then stuck out quite obviously from pregnancy. “You have quite the heart for your nation…” He commented quietly. Louise turned her gaze from Maria, who remained unconscious and flushed. It took a moment for her to translate, but once she understood, she quickly switched back to the French they had been speaking earlier.

“Of course I do. Should I feel otherwise?”

“ _Nyet_. That wasn’t what I meant.” He offered a small smile. “It’s simply rare to find a leader so invested in the well-being of their nation rather than their own agenda.” Ivan ambled forward, pulling a chair away from the nearby desk so he could sit. “Maria has had good fortune on that count. Frederick the Great thought the world of her.”

“And I love her as if she were my own child.” Louise affirmed softly, reaching out to brush a stray curl out of Maria’s face. “The world could learn a thing or two from her. I certainly did.” After a moment, she cast a curious glance Ivan’s way. “How long have you known each other?”

He paused a second, unsure of how quite to answer. “Since we were children. Centuries.” He replied. “Though I’m not sure you could equate us to being _friends_ at the time. Our people didn’t quite get along back then. But she…” his head tilted a bit, brows furrowed, “she was different. Always has been. She used to go out of her way to find me on the battlefield after the soldiers had cleared out and nothing but the dead or wounded remained.”

“Really?” Louise looked at him more directly, astonished. Ivan’s smile grew a little wider at her reaction.

“It’s in her nature.” He said simply. “From what I understand, she wasn’t allowed to fight growing up, so she spent most of her time tending to the wounded instead.”

“I suppose that explains her adamancy in being my midwife.” Louise laughed lightly, the sound almost soft and musical.

She was a gentle woman. A beautiful woman. Despite everything her and her family had gone through, she remained radiant and well mannered. Home was a long way away from Tilsit, but it was held fiercely by French troops, barring any chance of returning to the capital. There was something about Louise that reminded Ivan quite a bit of Maria. Perhaps it was her steely resolve in the face of almost certain defeat…

“So you met on the battlefield.” Louise continued, bringing Ivan back out of his thoughts. He shifted, looking a little more attentive now that she’d broken the brief silence. “That’s quite the introduction, I’d think.”

Ivan nodded in agreement, humming. “She was a lot more…softer, then.”

“Softer?” Louise echoed, brows raised.

“Gentle. She’s always had a soothing touch, I think. If you’d fought her in battle, you wouldn’t think such, though.”

“So you _have_ fought one another.”

“Briefly. Mostly just to play the part.” Ivan smiled despite himself, fingers tugging at the ends of his scarf. “It’s a bit of a joke, nowadays. She’ll brandish her sword and give me a nick on the arm or something harmless like that. ‘Not a real battle unless I get one in on you’, she’ll say.” He leaned back in his seat, dropping his hands to his lap to twiddle his thumbs idly. “And then she’ll disappear back into the fray, just as quickly as she appeared.”

Louise chuckled, running a hand over her stomach almost soothingly. “That sounds like her. How long ago did you truly become friends?”

“Just under a century.”

“Really? So short a time…” She seemed almost disappointed in his answer.

“Maria wasn’t quite a fully-fledged nation until that point. We had little reason to meet before then. I think she was also quite…hampered on her political duties. Prussia tends to be a very patriarchal society.” He explained. “My own nation has seen to it that no woman can hold the throne any longer.”

“Such a pity.” Louise sighed melodramatically. “I’d like to think politics could use a bit of a woman’s touch. You’d be surprised what we can accomplish with far less.”

“Oh, believe me. I’ve quite the idea.” Ivan assured. “Maria has made sure of that.”

Abruptly, he fell quiet when he saw Maria start to rouse. Her gaze fluttered open, squinting up at the ceiling of the tent before closing once more.

“ _J_ _ülchen_ ,” Louise pressed a hand against Maria’s cheek, feeling for her temperature, “ _wie f_ _ühlst du dich_?”

Ivan, of course, didn’t understand a word of it. He simply sat in silence, watching as Louise fussed over the groggy and exhausted Maria sprawled out next to her.

“ _Als ob ich auf einem Boot bin…_ “

Slowly, Maria sat upright, teetering rather worryingly from side to side as if she had trouble keeping her balance centered. The damp washrag fell to her lap, but she did nothing to remove it. Louise finally stood, plucking the cloth from its resting place before turning toward Ivan.

“I’ll be but a moment.” She said, switching back to the French they had been using before. “Keep an eye on her, I’m afraid she doesn’t feel well. Not that it’s any surprise.” Ivan simply gave a mute nod, and watched as the Queen scurried out of the tent.

Maria took in a deep breath, letting out a rather rattling sigh quickly after. Her head drooped down, fingers tangling into her long, messy tresses. Ivan watched, waited, until finally Maria lifted her head once more and swiveled her gaze around to take in her surroundings. Her eyes landed on him soon enough, recognition flitting across her features.

“Ivan…”

His chin tilted up a fraction, a soft smile pulling into place. “Welcome to the world of the living.” He greeted almost teasingly. She didn’t seem to find the humor in it, however. Maria swung her legs over the edge of the cot, planting her feet firmly on the ground rather heavily.

“How long was I out?”

“Not too long. Hardly an hour, I think.”

She grunted weakly, rubbing at her face.

It took some time for her to finally become aware of her surroundings; of what had happened. For a brief second, she looked as if she were about to burst into tears. She scrubbed at her face once more, getting rid of any proof there had been any tears pricking at her eyes. Just as quickly, she seemed to find some hidden resolve, and her features went oddly serious and…unsettling.

“When this is done,” she started slowly, lowering her hands to look his direction, “I’ll wring the life out of his scrawny little neck.”

Ivan fell quiet, fixated on her fierce stare. She positively radiated anger, and the entirety of her wrath seemed concentrated in her very gaze. Had it been anyone else, Ivan was sure they would have been shaken to their core and crumpled beneath her ire.

There was no doubt in his mind Maria would hold true to her threat. He simply hoped he'd have the good fortune to be there when she did. 


	5. Revolution

**1914**

_Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo_

“ _Dzyadya Vanya, podnimi menya! Podnimi menya!_ ”

Peals of laughter filled the little courtyard, mingling with the soft chirping of birds and clattering of tableware. Maria sat quietly in the shade, watching amusedly as Ivan kneeled down and then rose to his full height, two young children dangling from either arm. Tsarevich Alexei Romanov on the left, and Grand Duchess Anastasia on the right.

It was brisk for the end of June, but comfortable enough to enjoy the sunlight and fresh air. It was one of the few occasions Maria had decided to visit simply because she could. No political priorities and national agendas. Just a visit between friends.

The children were having a ball, it seemed. Ivan had twirled around a bit, giving them a few good spins before letting them drop back to their feet, grinning widely. He ruffled Alexei’s hair, gave Anastasia a quick kiss on the top of her head, and gently shooed them off to go play on their own.

“They really like you, don’t they?” Maria couldn’t help but smile at him as he took a seat at the other side of the table.

“They call me Uncle Vanya.” He said proudly, leaning back in his chair as he folded his hands in his lap. “They know I’m not actually family, but they treat me as if I am anyway. I suppose it’s to be expected. I’ve known them all since they were babies.”

Maria gave a soft hum, gaze shifting back to watch the younger Romanov children chase each other around the yard. “I’m jealous.” She said quietly.

“They’re only human.” Ivan responded, expression softening a little. “They won’t be around forever… Though I prefer not to think about that…” He admitted.

Maria bit at the inside of her cheek, gaze dropping down to the side.

It was always a dangerous thing to get attached to humans. There was no telling how long they would live, after all. But even so, it was inevitable to happen at least once. Maria was certain there wasn’t a nation-person alive who hadn’t lost someone to the hands of time, whether premature or not.

But it was a subject she wasn’t willing to broach, and so she let the topic fall to rest at that, instead switching gears a little bit.

“How have you been holding up? I hear things have been a little…tense.”

“That is one way to put it.” Ivan frowned, falling quiet for several moments. His gaze lingered on the brickwork of the patio before finally shifting up toward the children. “They call him Nicholas the Bloody.” He finally said, voice soft. “Khodynka, the war with Japan…Bloody Sunday…” Ivan shook his head. “The people hate him.”

“And what about you…?” Maria asked cautiously, setting her cup of tea back on the table between them. “Do you take your people’s side or…?”

“It’s…” Ivan lifted a hand to rub at his chin before letting it drop back to his lap, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s…difficult to decide. On the one hand, I understand their desire for change. I’ve even spoken with some of the revolutionaries myself and they— they really do have my best interest in mind. Everyone’s best interest. And yet…” He paused a moment, looking uncertain. “We just celebrated three hundred years of Romanov rule. I have known this family for _centuries_. They consider me one of them. Nicky wasn’t ready to be Tsar when he was first crowned, and he still struggles today, but he’s trying his hardest.”

Maria watched as Ivan shifted, tugging at his scarf to draw it a little tighter around his neck.

“I support my peoples want of change,” he said finally, “but I dread what that means for this family. My country isn’t exactly known for peaceful transitions.”

Maria gave a snort at that. “Yeah, you let me know when you find one that is.” She retorted. “I’ve been through a few myself. Small scale.”

“Well, compared to me, you’re a rather small nation.” Ivan reminded her.

“Compared to you, _everyone_ is a small nation.” She countered with a crooked smile. Ivan stifled a chuckle. “It’s just a little unnerving watching you go through this, you know? You’ve got a massive population on your hands and a government that…doesn’t really have the best track record.”

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware.” Ivan said dryly.

“Does…does that division bother you? I’ve noticed some of our kind tend to be swayed by one more than the other. People versus the government, I mean.”

Ivan licked his lips, brows furrowed as he watched Anastasia jump out from behind a rose bush to startle Alexei. “It’s like being pulled in two in every sense of the phrase. I ache every time there’s a riot. Migraines, too. But…” He shifted uncomfortably, scowling down at the brickwork once more. “But what makes me the most uneasy is that there are times when my thoughts don’t feel like my own.”

“Y’know, Alfred was a lot like that during his civil war.”

“Pardon?”

“Alfred. Y’know, nosy little spitfire from the new world? Guy you always seem to butt heads with?”

“Oh. Yes.” Ivan paused. “You call him by name?”

Maria quirked a brow, looking amused. “Well, I a _m_ sort of the entire reason he even knows how to shoot a rifle straight so, yes. Is that a problem…?” The grin she had on her face was unnerving. Ivan pointedly looked away, clearing his throat rather anxiously.

“ _Nyet_ , of course not. I’ve simply never heard it before. That’s all.”

“Right.” Maria deadpanned, still looking rather smug as she relaxed in her chair. “Anyway, we’ve kept in touch over the years and I remember talking to him about the whole internal division thing. He described it a lot like that only quite a bit worse. His nation went the extra mile to physically separate into two different entities. You can imagine how badly that wrecked him.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Ivan said grimly.

“Well, with how things are set on the world stage, we may be up for something much worse.” Maria stretched out her legs a bit, crossing them at the ankle. She had, for once in her life, actually opted for a _skirt_ over pants. But as they say, the times were changing, and fashion was no exception. Bustles and corsets weren’t really in style anymore. Maria could get away with wearing looser, simpler clothing.

It suited her, Ivan thought. She’d always pulled off the uniforms quite nicely, but button down blouses and waist skirts seemed to fit her best. It was a little strange seeing her calves exposed though. Not exactly something Ivan ever thought would be _odd_ to him, but she’d always worn boots or floor length dresses. Not a pair of simple heels and a loose skirt that barely went past her knees.

Even by societies standards, though, it _was_ a little scandalous.

“Ah, yes. Why have an internal conflict when you can have a worldwide one on top of it all.” Ivan sighed, visibly slouching.

“Why, Ivan, it’s almost like you’re _tired_ of war?” Maria snarked behind her cup of tea. Ivan threw a rather exasperated look her way. “As long as certain people can keep their heads on straight, things will work out fine.”

“Mm. Tell me then, oh Queen of Strategy and foresight, how do you see this playing out?”

“My honest opinion?” She asked. “The Little Princess is going to throw a fit and drag the rest of us down with her.”

“By which you mean…”

“Austria. I mean Austria.”

“Of course, how silly of me to forget.” Ivan chortled, finally reaching for his own cup. “Have you always hated her or is this still about Hungary?” He asked without really thinking.

“What? Oh, no. I’ve been over that for ages. Elik’s an idiot, but Austria’s just a bitch.”

Ivan nearly snorted tea out his nose.

“Well, you did ask.” Maria shrugged her shoulders, looking rather entertained with his reaction. “We’ve always had a bad history.” She went on as Ivan hastily wiped his face dry with a handkerchief. “And yeah, Elik sort of played a part in that, but honestly, I just don’t like her as a person. She’s so… _entitled_. And spoiled.”

“As opposed to you?” Ivan asked slowly.

“Absolutely. I’ve worked hard since day one to get where I’m at. I didn’t become a military and industrial powerhouse overnight. I wasn’t even a nation to _start_ with. My claim to land was this dinky little _tent_ some old man named Sibrand had pitched up on the outskirts of a plague and siege ridden city. A religious order is not an easy place to grow up in. You have to give up everything, and for a little girl who had nothing to begin with? That’s saying something. I was allowed the clothes on my back and that was it for the longest time. I had to _beg_ them just to let me keep a journal.”

“I fought tooth and nail for the chance to see the world outside the church. And even harder to finally earn the right to fight on the field of battle alongside my men. _Austria_ won’t set foot on a battlefield. She’d rather stay cooped up in her palace drinking expensive tea and signing alliance and marriage contracts just to get more land and power without so much as lifting a finger.”

“You have rather strong opinions of this woman.” Ivan remarked bemusedly.

“I have a rather strong _hatred_ for her.” Maria sniffed. “Just to, y’know, clarify that.”

Ivan couldn’t help the small roll of his eyes. This coming from a woman who had not two centuries prior given him a whole speech about how their kind should come together and be friends. Why hate the only other people like you, she had said.

It seemed she’d finally grown up a little. Ivan had a hard time deciding if that was a good or bad thing. Maria was still Maria, that was for certain. But she was, perhaps, a little less idealistic than she used to be.

“ _Gospodin Braginsky?_ ”

Ivan started a bit, looking up to see one of the house staff hovering nearby. Maria glanced between the two of them curiously. “ _Da?_ _Chto eto?_ ”

“ _Novosti, ser_.” The servant reached out to hand a folded piece of paper to Ivan. A telegram. Ivan thanked him and waved him off, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair.

“Well that wasn’t the least bit disconcerting.” Maria mumbled into her tea, watching as Ivan unfolded the paper and read over the message. “What’s it say?”

Ivan was quiet for longer than Maria would have liked. She watched as he read over the message once. Twice. A third time. Until finally he crumpled it in his hand and slowly sat back in his seat, fixing his stare ahead on the children still playing in the courtyard.

“Vanya…?” Maria pressed gently, warily. He had tensed up quite considerably. “What did it say…?”

“It would seem,” he started slowly, voice holding an edge to it that Maria had never heard before, “that The Little Princess’s temperament is about to be tested.” Ivan stood abruptly, his chair scraping gratingly against the patio as he tossed the crumpled telegram onto the table between them.

“The Austrian Archduke has been assassinated in Sarajevo."

* * *

  **1918**

_The Catherine Palace, Tsarskoye Selo_

They were gone. All gone. Dead. Thrown in a ditch, for all he knew, but they were _gone_ and he hadn’t _been there_ to protect them. To stop it. One minute he was in the midst of a talk among his men, and then the telegram came through and everything went silent.

Dead.

All of them.

His chest ached.

Everything was numb. A steady tingle, like static under the skin, had consumed his senses. Ivan wasn’t sure if he could move, or if his eyes were even open in that moment. What he was aware of was the unsteady, slow, agonizing thumping of his heart. It wasn’t beating normally by any means. It was studdery and uneven, and occasionally a particular beat was so harsh that pain started to break through the static.

A low murmur echoed against his eardrums along with his tottering heartbeat, the world shifting around him leaving him dizzy despite how obviously prostrate he was.

“…an!….I…”

God, everything was cold. What he could feel through the numbness felt like ice. Fingertips and toes and lips, they all felt frozen. Was he dead? Perhaps he was dead. At least he’d be like Them.

“Ivan!”

Perhaps not.

He saw nothing but blurs when he tried to open his eyes. Shades of amber and gold, marred by a streak of white that kept shifting back and forth like a swing. His name still echoed in his ears, but the voice remained distant and unrecognizable.

Ivan shut his eyes, and hoped to disappear into the empty static once more.

* * *

 

It was another two hours before Ivan finally stirred. He sucked in a rather sudden, deep breath, as if finally resurfacing from underwater, and released a slow, steady sigh soon after, eyelids flickering open.

The amber hues surrounding him were much more sharp and recognizable; familiar and comforting. However, they were hardly anything compared to the reassuring sight of the figure hovering over him pressing their hand to his cheek. Ivan relaxed, letting his gaze slide shut for a few moments to simply relish the touch and come to terms with his current state. His chest ached terribly, as did everything else, but he could breathe a little easier and feel the chill biting at his skin.

“Welcome to the world of the living.” Maria brushed her thumb over his cheek, watching as he opened his eyes once more to look at her. “How do you feel…?”

“Terrible…” Ivan croaked, voice hoarse. He looked just as exhausted as he sounded, but given the circumstances, Maria couldn’t really blame him. She was fairly certain she looked a little worse for wear herself. “What are you doing here…?”

“Looking for you.” She shifted to sit a little more comfortably on the floor beside him. “Puttin’ my medical training to good use.”

Her voice sounded funny, Ivan thought. He frowned, looking up at her through squinty eyes. “You…you’re speaking Russian?”

“Well I did spend a good amount of time learning it. Figured I might as well utilize it.” Maria smiled widely. “Looks like I’m one step ahead of you on the linguistics game. You need to start learning German.”

“ _Nimmer_.” Ivan let out an airy laugh, a very short lived one. The action pulled at his new stitches and caused him to wince and grunt in pain. Maria brushed her fingers over his forehead, pushing his bangs off his sweaty skin. “You…” he started rather haltingly, eyes cinched shut in an effort to will the ache away, “you cut your hair.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess this is a little shorter than you’re used to isn’t it?” She let out a rather nervous sounding laugh, reaching up to touch at the cropped strands. “I was in the trenches and the mud and dirt didn’t really agree with me, so I lopped it off. Looks weird, doesn’t it?”

“You look fine.”

“I think it makes my head look big.”

“As if it wasn’t already full of hot air…” Ivan mumbled, a bit of what Maria could have sworn was a _smirk_ pulling up at the corners of his lips. She would have given him a smack as punishment, but given his current condition she decided that probably wouldn’t have been beneficial in any way. She moved her hand back down to the new set of stitches on his chest, lightly tracing around it. Ivan didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he made no attempt to stop her or express discomfort.

“How long were you here…?” She asked quietly, pulling him back out of his thoughts. He sucked on his teeth, brows furrowing as he tried to recall.

“A day or two…” he said uncertainly, “i’m not…entirely sure. The days have sort of blended together since…”

Maria noted how he cut himself off quite suddenly, expression pinching up in a way she had never seen before. She hoped it was just another twinge of pain, but she knew better.

“Why here though…?”

“It…it was the only place I could think of…” Ivan said weakly, voice breaking. “It’s the only good thing I have left…”

“Idiot,” Maria murmured softly, brushing a hand through his hair as she leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead, “you have me, don’t you?”

Ivan had seen her cry on plenty of occasions. Angry tears, happy tears, sad ugly sobbing that left her nose bright red and eyes puffy. Maria was a very emotive person and she cried a lot for all sorts of reasons. But Maria had never had the opportunity to see Ivan shed a tear.

She rather wished it would have stayed that way.

Ivan was a silent crier. The only thing that really gave him away was the hitch in his throat and his uneven little gasps, but even then, Maria only heard them because she was so close and allowed him to hide his face in her shoulder. He trembled; shook like an oversized leaf in her arms as he clutched at her desperately like some sort of tether. As if holding her would keep him grounded. It helped. With her there, his thoughts were a little more his own and he didn’t feel so stretched thin. Didn’t feel so utterly _alone_.

“It won’t stop hurting,” he choked out, “how do you make it stop…?”

“Make what stop…?”

“The heartache…”

Maria let out a breath, cradling him tightly in her arms. She’d shifted so her legs were tucked underneath his back, giving him some of the support he needed to lean up. Gently, she carded her fingers through his hair, resting her head against his.

“You don’t.” She said quietly, knowing it wasn’t the answer Ivan was looking for, but she’d gone through his pain before and she knew what it was like better than anyone. She wasn’t going to give him false expectations.

“You just learn to live with it.”

* * *

**1935**

_The Kremlin, Moscow_

“Article 48 is going to be the death of this nation.” Maria said sourly, her voice crackling over the phone line. Ivan shifted the receiver, cradling it between his cheek and shoulder as he continued to shuffle through his paperwork.

“That’s a very morbid statement, Maria, I do hope you’re being facetious.”

“I wish I were.” She continued dryly, releasing a breath that echoed as static in his ear. “First Herr Hitler takes up the chancellery, and then the Reichstag goes up in flames. Now they’re pushing things in a whole new direction and it’s…” Maria faltered a bit, looking for the word, “it scares me.” She finally admitted. “They’re using the Jews as a scapegoat.”

Ivan frowned at that. Not unheard of these days, but considering Maria’s living arrangements… “Isn’t Theresa Jewish?”

“By birth.” Maria clarified. “Her family has been in Germany for ages, though. She doesn’t practice, but that doesn’t make a lick of a difference to _them_.”

“How is she taking it…?”

“Pretty well, actually. She’s the most stubborn woman I know. Might even give me a run for my money.” Maria laughed, though it was rather dry and bitter. “She’s well established in the community, so I’m hoping that works in her favor. Plus, she has me and Lutz to keep the SS from breathing down her neck.”

“I find it hard to believe anyone is capable of bringing her down.” Ivan remarked, leaning back in his chair as far as the phone cord would allow.

Maria laughed a little more genuinely that time. “That’s true. Poor Lutz doesn’t stand a chance against her when she scolds him.” She giggled.

“You don’t do much better.” Ivan reminded her. “I saw her reprimand you once and you burst into tears like a _child_.”

“I’m an easy crier!” Maria defended loudly. “I can’t help it!”

“Yes, you’re rather notorious for it.” He smiled fondly.

“Oh, shut up.”

Ivan shifted in his seat, glancing briefly toward the clock sitting on his desk. “I’m worried for you.” He said after several long moments of silence passed between them.

“Good. You should be.”

“ _Maria_.”

She let out something of a snort before composing herself once more. “Sorry, sorry. Not helping, I know. But really, with civil liberties officially considered _dead_ and all.” Her voice took a sour edge to it. “This man is threatened by just about everything, it feels like. You know they’ve started making movements against the communists too? Among other things. If you’re German and part of the Worker’s Party, you’re golden. But anything else? God forbid.”

“That’s what worries me.” Ivan said flatly. “Believe it or not, Maria, I know how this works. You’re very vocal about your opinions, and with the direction your country is taking—”

“I’m well aware.” She interrupted tersely. “That being said, it would probably be a good idea to hold off on visiting me here for a while.”

Ivan felt his heart sink a little. By all rights, it made sense. With the actions directly following the Reichstag Fire, the Nazi party had tightened its hold around the nation considerably. Privacy was no longer a guarantee.

And with the shift in attitude toward Jews and Communists, they had every right to worry.

“I understand.” Ivan said quietly. “It’s for the best, Mashunya,” he reassured gently, “it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It’s the opposite of fine, it—” Maria stopped short. There was just the faintest sound of knocking in the background. “I gotta go.” She sighed. “Lutz and I have a meeting to get to.”

“I wish you luck. _Do svidaniya_ , Maria.”

She gave a bitter laugh at that. “Yeah. I’m gonna need all I can get.”

* * *

**1938**

_Moscow, USSR_

His people were dying.

Ivan could feel it. There was no way to describe the connection, but his population might as well have been the blood in his veins. On any typical day, those that passed away naturally didn’t even register. During war, their deaths mingled with the aches and pains that came from battle and the destruction of his cities.

But this? This was different. He could _feel_ them dying. Feel their hunger and pains from starvation. The sting of hands worked too hard. He felt weak. Tired. Famished.

But any time he broached the subject with his boss, he was brushed off.

“What you feel is the weak of the nation finally being given their dues. Before long, only the strong will be left, and you’ll be all the better for it, Comrade.”

Ivan did not believe him.

* * *

  _Berlin, Germany_

The shattered glass crunched beneath her shoes. Maria stood in the midst of the bakery, gaze sweeping over the carnage. Tables and chairs had been turned over and smashed, the display case for pastries and freshly baked bread shattered.

Theresa remained frozen in the doorway leading toward the kitchen, staring at the wreckage with a pinched up expression, grasping at the door frame for support. Maria had never seen her so shaken before.

The chaos of the early morning had died down, but the aftermath still laid before them like a fresh scar.

The city ached. Everything had fallen into a surreal stillness. Even those that had ventured outside gazed on with hollow, disbelieving faces at the destruction of their city.

Maria took in a deep breath, willing her fisted hands to stop their trembling, and finally forced her legs into movement.

There was nothing to be done but sweep up the shards of broken glass, and hope that this had been the worst of it.

Maria, of course, knew better than to believe that _._


	6. Rise and Fall

**1777**

_Valley Forge, Pennsylvania_

Winter was unforgiving.

It was rare that it wasn’t. The bleak season brought gray skies and snow, froze the ground and water, killed crops.

It left his men dying of starvation and freezing in the cold.

“How are you holding up, Jones?”

Alfred started a bit, lifting his gaze toward the approaching figure. An old friend of his came to sit next to him, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Alfred pulled the tattered blanket over his shoulders a little more tightly around him.

“A little chilly.” He said with a cheeky smile, cheeks rosy from the cold.

His friend gave a hum, arms crossed over his chest as he gazed out at the camp sprawled before them. “It seems you’ve lost your shoes.” He noted.

Alfred wriggled his toes in the open air. They’d already begun to turn purple around the nails and become difficult to move.

“I’ll be alright.” He shrugged. “Takes a bit more than frostbite to take me down, George, you know that.”

“Yes, I’d rather wondered. What happens if they break off?”

Alfred pursed his lips in thought, head tilted. “I suppose I’d hope they grew back quickly.” He laughed, rubbing at his drippy nose with the ends of the blanket. “What about you? Any luck with Congress?”

“Yes, actually.” George straightened, giving a tired smile. “It seems they’ve finally listened to reason. They’ve dispatched a group of men to evaluate the state of our troops.”

Alfred hummed in acknowledgement. “When?”

“Oh, within the next year, I’m sure.” He joked, but continued on in a more serious tone. “Two weeks’ time, they said. Perhaps a little longer. They can’t very well cut through Philadelphia, after all. What with Howe cooped up there.”

Alfred dug his heels into the mud, frowning. “Lot o’ men won’t last that long, General.”

“It’s the best we can do.” George said grimly. “Ah, but there is a bit of good news I’m sure you’ll like to hear. You’ve heard word of that Prussian fellow, Steuben, correct? Arrived in the colonies about a month ago.”

“Yeah?”

“It seems he’s brought a friend who’s going to meet us here early. One of your kind.”

Alfred perked up immediately, blue eyes wide and lips pulling into a bright smile. “Really?!” He turned toward Washington, grabbing his arm rather excitedly. “Have you seen ‘em!? What did he look like?!”

“I’ve been stuck here just as long as you, Alfred, of course I haven’t seen him.” George reminded him with a gentle laugh. “But I do hear he’s rather short.”

“That’s it? Short?” Alfred sank back disappointedly, shoulders sagging.

“And he has white hair.”

“Great, so he’s old, too.”

“Alfred.”

“Right, sorry. Age means experience.” Alfred cleared his throat and shifted, watching his breath fog up in the air. “How soon?”

“They’re travelling from Boston, so it could be some time. Perhaps they’ll even arrive with the congressmen?”

Two more weeks minimum. Alfred tried to remain hopeful, but conditions as they were, things were rather grim. At least the huts had come along nicely. Even so, Alfred wished more than anything that things weren’t so _wet_ and cold.

The mud felt weird when it squished between his half numb toes.

* * *

**1945**

_Berlin, Germany_

“Are the restraints quite necessary…?” Arthur asked hesitantly in a hushed voice, gaze fixated on the unconscious figure a few paces away.

“She kicked me in the face and _bit_ me.” Matthew reminded him, motioning to the colorful assortment of bruises and markings on his face.

“You’re sure you didn’t just look at her wrong?” Arthur tried weakly, but the humor fell flat. He drew in a deep breath, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You said she hasn’t got any tattoos?”

“I checked. If she was in one, they didn’t mark her.” Matthew crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “But she’s not as…emaciated as the camp prisoners, so I have my doubts they actually sent her to one.”

“Any idea where she was, then?” Arthur probed, however Matthew shook his head in the negative.

“I had to sedate her before I had a chance to ask. It took me and _four_ other men to pin her down.”

Arthur gave a dry laugh. “Yes, she’s quite the formidable force for such a small woman.”

“Loud, too.” Matthew added softly.

They lapsed into a brief silence, staring at the prostrate form of Maria. Her ankles and wrists had been bound and strapped to the cot in an attempt to keep her still. Her clothes had been replaced with a set of over-sized scrubs pilfered from the hospital store supply.

“Where was she?” Arthur finally asked.

“Western side of the city, hiding in a half collapsed building.” Matthew replied. “She’d been there for several days, maybe a week, I think.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Bed sores.”

Arthur’s brows shot up. “Bed sores?”

“Pressure ulcers.” Matthew amended. “She was sitting or lying in one place for a long time.” He explained. “She’s got older ones that have healed, it looks like.”

“Anything else? Other scars or markings?”

Matthew hesitated, glancing first to Maria, and then to Arthur. “No,” he replied, “she woke up before I could do a complete look over.”

Arthur nodded slowly, dropping his hands to slide them into his trouser pockets. “Don’t tell anyone else.” He ordered. “Keep this between you and me, and keep a close eye on her.”

“I will.”

“And keep me updated.” Arthur added.

Matthew nodded and gave a mock salute, a hesitant smile on his lips. “Yessir.” Arthur gave a nod of acknowledgement, and then turned to leave.

The door swung shut behind him with a soft click, leaving Matthew alone. Quietly, he padded toward the door and gently flipped the lock on the knob, assuring no one could come in unannounced. The last thing they needed was Ludwig barging in demanding answers, after all.

Maria’s ragged breathing was the only sound to fill the silence. Matthew carefully pulled a chair over to her bedside, mindful not to make too much noise. With a bit of a sigh, he took his seat, glancing down at his wrist watch.

All he could do now was wait for the morphine to take it's course.

* * *

  _Valley Forge_

He could spot the horse on the horizon. Alfred squinted against the morning light, watching the figure in the distance make their lonely approach.

“Just them? No company or assistant?”

George lowered his spyglass, a rather amused expression on his face as he folded it back up. “Yes, it would seem they decided to come alone.” He slid the glass into his pocket, watching as Alfred continued to stare on ahead.

“You’d figure he’d bring a translator or somethin’…”

“Perhaps they don’t need one?” George countered. “If they’re anything like you, they’ve had ample time to learn our language.”

“True…” Alfred finally dropped his hand, turning his gaze away and back toward the lines of huts and soldiers milling about.

There were much less than when they had arrived. Most hadn’t even died from wounds, but sickness and exposure. Shoes and clothes had become so worn and tattered they hardly served their purpose anymore.

But the inspection had finally garnered the congressmen’s attention. Supplies would be on the way within days.

“You really think one man can fix this?”

“Oh, I’m not too sure about that. Perhaps what this place needs is,” George deliberated briefly, smiling almost knowingly, “a woman’s touch.”

“Who, Martha’s?” Alfred laughed. “I bet she could whip these guys into shape pretty quick.”

George waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure you’ll understand quite soon. Go make yourself presentable, Jones.”

“Yessir!” Alfred saluted, about-faced, and then trotted off to collect his things.

* * *

**1946**

_Nuremburg, Germany_

 

“Prussia, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, gaze narrowed and arms folded across his chest. “Not guilty.” He repeated dryly. “That seems rather hard to believe, considering your state accounts for most of the German populace.”

“That doesn’t mean I agreed with what they stood for.” Maria bit back tersely. “I have never once pledged allegiance to their cause. I didn’t exactly fit in with the Status Quo.”

“You disappeared for nearly two years straight.” Arthur countered. “Not a word to anyone—not even your brother—and you _still_ refuse us answers. Where were you?”

“Not for you to know.”

Ivan closed his eyes and let out a breath, shoulders sagging. Everyone was exhausted. Most of the European nations were still struggling to recover from the havoc wrecked all across their lands. Everyone looked a little worse for wear.

But Maria looked absolutely miserable despite what her stature said. She was thin; so much thinner than he remembered. Cheeks gaunt and hair a choppy mess down to her shoulders. She hadn’t been recovering well and it was evident.

“You do realize this trial will determine your fate as a nation?”

“I’m not an idiot. However, for you to accuse me of just jumping ship like a coward, you clearly don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“The evidence stacks against you.”

“The evidence doesn’t _exist_. You’ve no record of where I was or what I was doing. As far as you’re concerned I simply disappeared into thin air. But let me ask you—“

“Prussia, this trial is meant to—“

“—after all the years you’ve known me,” she interrupted harshly, “every one of you. After all the wars we’ve fought side by side or against one another, have I ever given a hint of cowardice just because the tide of battle went against my favor?”

The room fell quiet.

Alfred squirmed a bit in his seat, looking uncomfortable. He owed his nationhood partially to her, after all. Without her assistance, his soldiers would have floundered about in a disorganized mess with little hope for victory.

Francis had fought against her. Seen her at her worst. Half a nation in shambles, drenched in her own blood and still determined to wring the life out him with her bare hands.

Arthur had seen her fight. Seen her resolve. She’d been his ally. They’d fought shoulder to shoulder together and he’d seen her courage to stand up against foes bigger than her and greater in numbers.

Ivan knew her more than anyone. Ivan had seen her courageousness both on and off the battlefield. How quickly she was to shut those down who thought her little more than an ordinary woman, when she was anything but. She was a nurse. A soldier. A _politician_. She had a strength beyond anything he’d seen before. A strength of will. Of purpose.

He liked to think she was still the strong willed woman from before the war, but something had changed.

Her expression was blank. He couldn’t figure out what she was feeling in the slightest. She’d been such an easy woman to read before, but now?

Now he couldn’t tell a single thing. Couldn’t even guess.

“It’s going to take a bit more than personal histories to change the verdict of your case. Things aren’t completely in our hands like they used to be, Prussia.”

“You’re preaching to the choir.” She quipped. “I wasn’t allowed in on much political business. I was working in the hospitals or on the front lines. Herr Hitler and I didn’t really see eye to eye.”

“And your proof?”

She nodded toward Ivan. He straightened in his seat, glancing toward the others. “We bumped into each other in Stalingrad.” He offered. “She was on the front lines; I can attest to that. She was a field medic.”

Maria looked expectantly up at Arthur, eyebrow raised.

“The last two years of the war, Prussia.” Arthur pressed. “The least you could do is attempt an excuse.”

Maria chewed on the inside of her cheek, gaze wondering to the side a bit as she deliberated. She looked over the various others present briefly, lingering for a moment or two longer on Matthew. He gave her a rather expectant look when he caught her gaze. Eventually she looked back toward the panel before her. “I was detained,” she said, “for conspiring against the regime.”

“Where?”

“Cozy little castle I had built for myself.”

“ _Prussia_ , this isn’t a joking matter.”

“Well where the hell else would I be detained other than a _prison_.” Maria snapped. “Sorry I didn’t get my release papers for you, I was rather preoccupied with trying to keep my ass alive. Not to mention they burned _everything_. Even if there was evidence, it’s gone.”

“The problem is you expect us to believe you were _arrested_.”

“And I suppose that’s exceedingly uncommon among our kind?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, “it is.”

“But not unheard of.” She countered, looking pointedly at Francis who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “Ask Ludwig. Ask anybody. I was pretty vocal about my disapproval of the Nazi movement. For God’s sake, Arthur, I was the one funneling you guys intel!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you!?”

“Ah…” Francis smiled a bit, almost knowingly. “The little bird,” he went on, “that was you.”

She nodded stiffly once before looking back toward Arthur who seemed to be in the middle of a very deep thought.

“Alright,” he finally conceded, “for now, let’s say I believe you. What then? Even if we decide otherwise, our leaders will demand some type of retribution. This is the second grievous offence against the world, and your nation can not be allowed to get off so easy.”

“So we’ll draw up something similar to last time. If it’s money you want, we can find a way to provide.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” Arthur leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs at the knee. “If we let you get off with nothing but war reparations to be paid, what happens when another man like Herr Hitler comes along and sways the people toward his cause? You’re a smart woman, Prussia. How do you think this will pan out for you and your brother?”

Maria hesitated, her gaze drifting off toward Ludwig who was sat a few paces away, head bowed.

The allies held everything. The entirety of Germany had been separated into four different groups; split amongst the men sat before her.

“If not you,” Arthur continued, “then who will we have to indict?”

“Ludwig stays out of this.” Maria said, quietly at first.

“Prussia—“

“ _Ludwig stays out of this._ ” She repeated, much more loudly this time. A tense silence followed. Arthur shifted in his seat, lips pressed in a thin line.

“That doesn’t leave a lot of options.”

“If it comes down to me or him, it’s me. I’ve lived my life, he’s hardly a century old.”

Ivan watched as Ludwig lifted his head to look toward his sister, gaze wide. Arthur watched the action as well before he looked back toward Maria. “You’d leave him without his sister?”

“As opposed to forcing me to watch my brother die?!” Maria spat out. “I’ve already suffered that loss once before, and I _will not_ go through it again. My innocence does not mean _his_ demise!”

“You don’t really leave us with much of a choice here.”

“Did I even have one to begin with?” Maria snapped, clenching her jaw. Her hands shook where she’d let them fist loosely by her sides.

Ivan tried desperately to figure out what she was feeling; if she was even the slightest bit scared. But all he saw was anger and bitterness on her features.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else that can be done?” Ivan interrupted, calling the attention of the others. “It seems a waste.”

“Unfortunately, the decision isn’t totally up to us anymore now, is it? You of all people should know that.” Arthur stood, smoothing out his uniform. “As of right now, the plans remain to divvy up the lands amongst the four of us. I don’t see why you’re so eager to renegotiate, Russia. Half of it is going to you anyhow.”

Ivan chanced a glance toward Maria, prickling a bit when he found she had her stare settled on him. He quickly averted his gaze. “Then that means we still plan to—“

Arthur nodded grimly. “The plan still remains to be that the state of Prussia will be dissolved. It will cease to exist entirely.”

* * *

  _Valley Forge_

“Sorry I ran a little behind schedule, Herr General,” came the sweetest, most innocent voice Alfred had ever heard. It had the softest little lilt to it, accented of course, but it didn’t really sound German. German’s had harsh accents, didn’t they? German’s were big and gruff and hardy.

Not small and delicate and—

“You're a woman.”

Alfred clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as it slipped out. The young lady stood in front of him met his gaze, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Why, yes! How ever could you tell?” She smiled widely, showing off dimpled cheeks and soft features.

Features marred by scars.

Alfred fidgeted, trying desperately not to stare, but it was difficult not to with how striking her features were. Pale skin—like porcelain—and long snow white hair with lashes to match. She looked like something meant to be tucked away in a protective case, displayed on a shelf of other fine and expensive objects.

“Well, it’s just…” Alfred started, looking briefly to Washington who stood a few paces away. George was a very well controlled man, but even Alfred couldn’t miss the smug look on his face. “You knew?!”

George simply smiled wider, and patted his pocket where he’d stowed away his spy glass.

“I suppose it is a bit of a shock.” The woman admitted, tucking her tricorn hat beneath her arm. She stretched out her free hand for Alfred to take. “Maria Julia Beilschmidt, at your service.” She introduced. “I’m the representative of Prussia. Fritz sends his regards.”

Alfred shook her hand rather numbly, unable to look away. “You, uh, weren’t exactly what I was expecting…” He admitted sheepishly.

“I seem to get that a lot.” Maria finally loosed his hand, flexing her fingers a bit. “Quite the grip you got there…”

“Alfred.” He supplied, regaining his composure rather quickly. He bowed a bit at the waist before straightening. “Alfred Franklin Jones.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Alfred. Well, Herr Jones, Herr General.” She nodded to the both of them respectively. “Shall we?”

George stepped aside and motioned for Alfred to lead the way. “By all means.” 

* * *

**1947**

_Kammergericht, Berlin_

No one had any idea how a nation truly died. There were rumors, but no concrete evidence.

It was sickening, almost, how Maria’s demise was something of a spectacle for the other nations, eagerly waiting to find out what would happen to them should they come to share the same fate.

Ivan, along with the rest of the allies and Ludwig had reconvened in February to finalize the plans made for Prussia. One by one, they all signed the sheet of paper with the agreement laid out in neatly typed print. It passed around until eventually it landed in Maria’s hands.

It did not go as any one of them had expected.

She signed the paper with a steady hand, and laid the pen down next to it when she had finished. Silently, she looked back up at the panel before her, her gaze shifting over each of their faces. When she reached Ivan, he cast his gaze downward, looking no doubt as uncomfortable as he felt.

They waited, but Maria stayed standing, still very much alive; not even a hint that the signing had phased her.

“Are we done?” She asked tersely, and the collective was forced to breath and continue on.

Maria, for whatever reason, was still intact and alive. A relief for most, no doubt, but a shock to others.

Her composure only broke when the others had dispersed and gone their separate ways. Ivan lingered behind in the doorway, watching as Maria seemed to wilt and sink into her chair. She buried her face in her hands, looking weak and exhausted. The conference room emptied except for her and Ludwig, who placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmured to her softly.

Ivan hesitated, briefly considering stepping into the room to offer her a few words of comfort of his own, but he lost the nerve.

"Pretty awful, isn't it...?"

Ivan jolted a bit, half turning to find the voice that had spoken behind him. Alfred stood there, expression morose and grim. It took a moment for Ivan to formulate an answer, unsure of what to say.

"I never expected it would be her," Ivan admitted, "not after everything she's done for us. All of us."

"It's bullshit." Alfred said crassly, looking peeved. "One person can't be accountable for an entire country's actions. It's not right. I've got fourty-eight states of my own and each one is as different as the next. Jules is..." He floundered, looking for the right word. "She's-...She's  _Jules_. She's just  _her_. There's no one else like her." He looked toward Ivan, brows raised. "Right?"

Ivan nodded in agreement, remaining quiet for the next few moments. As the silence dragged on, Alfred began to fidget anxiously.

"Russia...?"

Ivan glanced back at Alfred, watching as the younger nation shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"You think she'll be alright?"

The immediate answer weighed on his mind, but Ivan refused to voice it aloud. 

"If anyone can get through this," he began, "it'll be her. She'll pull through."

"I hope you're right..."

* * *

_Valley Forge_

Alfred could have sworn Maria was some sort of angel sent from heaven. A good luck charm. Perhaps even a fairy of fortune.

No sooner had she arrived then did the supplies start coming in. Food, clothes, blankets. The camp felt alive again, less strained and weary. With Maria’s arrival, also came the beginnings of spring.

It was silly, he knew, but hard to ignore.

Morale was on the rise, and his men were starting to look more like an army again. They had food in their bellies and the proper medical attention they needed.

And Maria to guide them.

“Shoulders back.” Maria ordered, pacing around Alfred as he stood at attention. “Keep your hips in line with your shoulders.” She eyed him like a hawk, scrutinizing every detail. “Spread your feet a little more… There. _Perfekt_. And don’t lock your knees or you’ll pass out.”

Alfred sucked in a breath and adjusted accordingly, gaze set forward almost stubbornly. Eventually, Maria came to a standstill in front of him, smiling.

“Exactly like that.” She praised. “At ease, soldier.”

He released the breath, shoulders sagging and stance going lax. “Is the way I stand really that important?” He asked tiredly.

“Of course it is. It’s all about image.” Maria motioned for him to fall in line beside her as she started to walk. Alfred kept pace, stretching as they walked to loose his sore muscles. “Over in Europe, most of our ranks are filled with Junkers or aristocracy; rich boys who want to make a name for themselves.” She explained. “They’ve spent centuries polishing their men to look the best on the field, to look the most professional and powerful. _Intimidating_.” She went on. “Your men look like riff-raff.” She said rather harshly. Alfred grimaced, casting his gaze to the side nervously.

“They’re just ordinary men. Farmers, clerks…”

“And I’m just a woman.”

Alfred stilled briefly, casting his gaze toward Maria’s. Her eyebrows were raised, watching as he mulled over her reply. “I’d say you’re a bit more than that. You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met.”

“Because I leave an impression.”

“Ah,” Alfred nodded, a smile spreading in place as he began to understand, “I think I see what you’re getting at, now.” He laughed lightly, resuming their trek through the camp. “It’s all about image.” He echoed.

“Exactly.” Maria grinned. “Arthur still sees you as a child. My goal here is to shape you up into a _man_. Someone to be intimidated by.”

“Alright, but what does reorganizing the camp have to do with that?”

“What? Oh, nothing. That was just to maintain a sense of order.” She explained. “And sanitation. Did you really think putting the latrines next to the kitchens was a good idea? It’s no wonder this place was rampant with illness. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, as they say. It’s important to pay attention to those things, however small they may seem.”

Alfred gnawed on the inside of his cheek, humming thoughtfully. “So we get the men looking better. What then?”

“Then the real fun begins.” Maria grinned wickedly. “It’s one thing to look good on the field, but you need to know how to utilize it, too. There’s a lot that comes into play during battle. Morale, strategy, advantages and disadvantages, how well equipped your men are and whether they can use their weapons properly.”

“My men can shoot pretty good.” Alfred frowned.

“They were using the bayonets as cooking skewers.” Maria countered in a deadpan voice. Alfred winced, looking away almost shamefully.

“Fair enough.” He conceded.

“Those muskets take a while to load, but you should be able to get no less than three shots out in a minute if you do it properly. The bayonets aren’t just for show, either; they can be utilized in close combat. It’s what they’re meant for. Now that your men have a steady supply of food and clothes coming in, we can start getting into the nitty gritty training. Strengthening them and molding them into true warriors.”

“When I’m done with you," she said, "you’ll give Arthur a run for his money.”

Alfred fidgeted anxiously, casting his gaze to the ground. “What if it’s all for nothin’, though? I mean, this is Britain. For a guy who can’t swim, he’s pretty deadly at sea. He’s got seasoned men on his side and better equipment. It…kinda seems like an impossible feat, y’know?”

“Keep thinking that way, and it will be.” Maria came to a halt, throwing him a rather severe look. “The moment you show weakness or fear, he will turn that around and use it against you, Alfred. If you back down now, you will _never_ know true freedom; you’ll be stuck in his shadow forever.”

Alfred drew in a breath, watching as Maria turned to face him. Her stern expression finally melted away into a pleasant smile. She lifted her chin, looking at him expectantly.

“Now, do you want to be a nation of your own, or not?”

 


	7. Canary

 

**1918**

_Soisson, France_

No one had been prepared for the war that had followed the Archduke's assassination.

The world was changing, that much was obvious. Technology had advanced at an unprecedented rate within the last fifty years alone. They had machines that could fly and drop bombs from the sky. They had mass produced guns that shot at an unbelievable speed; that could be reloaded in _seconds_. Warships unlike anything seen before.

It was brutal. It was brutal and bloody and so much more terrifying than Francis ever remembered it to be. He missed the days when one had to spend five minutes just to reload a rifle and get a shot out. Or when all one had to do was shoot off an arrow and hope to hit the right mark. He missed the days when the armies advanced on each other openly in orderly lines.

It was easier then. There were less casualties.

“If I didn’t know any better, Franny, I’d have to think you knew we were coming.”

“Yes, curious, that.”

Francis narrowed his gaze suspiciously as Maria grinned up at him. She was much too joyful considering the devastating loss her men had just gone through. However, it wasn’t hard to see her exhaustion. War had that effect, and the recent streak of influenza had left most of the nation’s reeling from the loss.

“If _I_ didn’t know any better,” Francis began, letting his arms drop from their folded position, “I’d say you’re almost happy we did.”

“Curious.” Maria sniffed, shuffling in place. “You plan on keeping me tied up like this or what?”

“Were you expecting a hot meal and fresh change of clothes? Come now, you’re a prisoner, Madame, not a guest.”

“That’s _Mademoiselle_ , thank you very much, and I _let_ myself get caught.” Maria quipped, turning her nose up. She thrust her bound hands out toward him pointedly, nodding her head briefly to allude to what she wanted. Francis released a breath, and fished out his pocket knife to cut the ties loose.

“Unbearable as ever,” he grumbled, “but I’d much rather you than your burly mountain of a brother.” He added. Maria laughed, rubbing at her wrists where the ropes had dug into her skin.

“You so sure about that? He only _looks_ intimidating. You’ve actually fought me before.”

“And I still have nightmares.” Francis eyed her, relaxing back against the support beam beside him. “What’s this about, Maria? Why go through all this trouble?”

“Is it such a crime to want to see an old friend?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I know you.”

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, expression lax and stance loose. The battle had been rough, but Maria hadn’t spent much of it aiming down the sights of her rifle. The white armband with a red cross made that evident. Field medic. Old habits die hard, Francis figured. Maria was devastatingly capable of wreaking havoc, but she was a woman with healing hands in the end.

She ran a hand through her cropped hair, sending the sweaty curls sticking up in all sorts of directions. The mid-July heat was stifling, and even in the safety of the damaged building they called base, the muggy air seeping through the shattered windows did little to help.

“I need information. Things have been a little chaotic as of late; war drawing to a close and such.”

“You seem so sure of that.”

“My men are starting to panic.” Maria fished out her canteen, unscrewing it quickly before knocking it back and taking several large gulps. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing dirt and sweat over her skin. “Usually that’s a sign of impending defeat,” she went on, “and besides that, this was a rather key victory for you, I’d think. Knocked us back quite a bit. Is Al here? I thought I saw some American troops.”

Francis shook his head in the negative, watching as her shoulders sagged in disappointment. “What sort of information did you need?”

Maria hesitated, slowly screwing the cap back on her canteen. “I was hoping you’d heard news from Ivan.”

He frowned at that, pushing off the post to sink down into a chair. He motioned for Maria to join him, however she declined and remained standing. “Ivan?”

“Yeah, big tall guy? Wears a scarf? Burrows up in the frozen wastes of Siberia and such.”

“I know who he is, Maria, I’m just curious as to why _you_ of all people would want to know. I was rather under the impression your two countries weren’t getting along at the moment.” Francis watched amusedly as Maria shuffled awkwardly in place. She cleared her throat before speaking again.

“He’s… Well it’s a little more complicated than that. Our bosses don’t, but we do.” She paused. “Our bosses _didn’t_.” She corrected. “Things are kind of messed up over there. I haven’t heard word from him since we signed the treaty back in March.”

“And you expect we have?” Francis arched an eyebrow.

“I expect your lines of communication have been a little more dependable than ours.” Maria seemed to ruffle a bit, looking irritated. “Do you have anything or not, Francis?”

“I do,” he said reluctantly, “but I’m afraid it’s not very good news.” He motioned once more to the chair across from him. “Sit.”

Maria eyed him, but slowly sank down into the chair as he’d instructed.

“You’ve no doubt heard about the uprising,” Francis began, folding his hands in his lap and crossing his legs at the knee. Maria remained rather rigid in her seat, feet planted flat on the floor and hands fisted loosely on her knees, “and the ensuing civil war that’s erupted.”

“Kind of inevitable,” she nodded, “I don’t expect that’ll clear up any time soon.”

“No, but the prospect of the royal family taking back power is an impossibility now.” Francis watched as Maria weighed his words, how her jaw set and fingers curled. “They were executed.”

“Executed.” She repeated flatly, almost disbelieving.

“Shot. Even the children.” He continued quietly. “Barbaric, to say the least.”

“A little more than barbaric, Francis.” Maria bit out. “They _murdered_ them. Alexei was only _just_ a teenager! How are you so calm about this?”

“I could ask why _you_ aren’t.” Francis countered. “I wasn’t aware the family was so important to you.”

“I hardly knew them, but that’s not the point. _Ivan_ did! He loved them to pieces and— God…” Maria slumped forward, burying her face in her hands. “You have no idea how much they meant to him.”

Francis continued to watch her curiously, at how her demeanor completely shifted and stature crumbled. Her expression creased in worry, fingers fidgeting agitatedly. “You’re awfully concerned for Russia’s well-being.” He remarked. Maria lifted her head to look at him once more, brows furrowed.

“He’s my friend.” She said shortly.

“Bit more than that, I’d think.”

Maria sucked in a breath, jaw clenching. Francis unfolded his hands, palms turned upward as he shrugged.

“I’m merely making an observation. I’ve never seen you this worked up about someone else’s national affairs.” He quirked a brow, lips curling up into a smile. Maria turned her gaze down to the floor rather hastily. “Not even with Hungary.”

“My nation hasn’t been nearly as involved with Hungary as it has with Russia.” Maria defended. “More often than not, Austria was involved first.”

“Maria, you’ve never been the type to put national affairs first. You’re a decidedly intimate person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You value personal relationships over professional ones.” Francis supplied, sitting up a bit straighter. He fished into his uniform pocket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. “You’re rather quick to give out your name, after all.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing,” Maria sneered, “it’s a _name_.”

“Which among our kind typically represents _trust_.” Francis continued. He held a cigarette between his lips, striking a match he'd pulled out along with it. “I understand you’ve lead a rather unorthodox life compared to the rest of us and customs are beginning to change, but your actions still have definitive consequences. I suppose what I should have said is that you’re a very _emotional_ person.”

“I get that a lot.” She waved her hand a bit to clear the smoke wafting her way.

“You see most of us as people first and nations second,” he flicked the ash that had begun to build up on the end, watching as Maria shifted in her seat uncomfortably, “and while I wish I could say that’s a very lovely thing, it’s also quite dangerous.”

“I’ve managed this far, Francis. I don’t need a lecture.”

“Yes,” Francis cut in, “you do.” Maria tensed, gaze narrowing, however he continued regardless of her ire. “I’ve had past relations with Russia, even considered him a close friend. He’s a good man. Very kind. But unstable.”

“This is a joke, right? He’s got a good head on his shoulders, he’s—”

“What he _doesn’t_ have is a stable country, Maria.” Francis said firmly. “You know just as well as I do what kind of effect that can have on us. You’ve seen it in your brother, you’ve dealt with it on your own. Civil unrest is the worst thing to happen to our kind and Russia goes through it _daily_.”

“So what, I should keep my distance? Are you seriously giving me the over protective dad lecture? I am quite literally _centuries_ old, not five.”

“You’ve had the fortune of being at a distance through his tribulations.” Francis cut in. “I’m more than willing to admit he’s a good man. But he’s troubled.”

“We all are.”

“He hurts people,” Francis amended, “whether he means to or not. There’s a reason most of us shy away from him. You’ve a temper of your own, and so does he, but at the end of it all, he’s got the upper ground in a fight. He’s got brute strength on his side and unlike Alfred, he absolutely knows how to use it.”

Maria leaned back in her chair, arms crossed rather petulantly across her chest. She stared at him hard, eyes narrowed and lips set into an unpleasant frown. “If you tell me to stay away—”

“No, I’m doing no such thing.” Francis lifted the cigarette to his lips to take a drag before tapping the ash off the end once more. “Simply giving you a warning to be careful.”

“Of?”

“I’ve seen you with a broken heart before, Maria. I doubt you’ll recover quite as well as you did before.”

She drew in a breath, looking stunned for a moment before she seemed to come to terms with what he’d said. Her gaze drifted away, expression going lax.

“That obvious, huh?” She asked quietly.

“Please,” Francis chuckled, snuffing out the cigarette on the table between them, “just who do you think you’re talking to?”

* * *

**1939**

_The Kremlin, Moscow_

It was nauseating how disgustingly cordial two parties who hated one another could be. Ivan had to remind himself, of course, that he had on multiple occasions done the exact same thing these men were doing now. What nation-person hadn’t?

But with a second great war on the horizon, it made his stomach churn and put his nerves on end.

“Bunch o’ assholes, is what they are.”

Ivan shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Must you be so crass…?”

“Just stating the truth.” Maria sniffed, holding out a thick folder for him to take. “You left this.”

Ivan begrudgingly took the file out of her hands and tucked it under his arm. The meeting had finally ended. A nonaggression pact between their nations had officially been signed. It would have been a good thing, really, had the circumstances been a little different.

Hitler and Stalin, respectively, had started to get greedy.

Not that it was any surprise to either of them. Both men were quite ambitious and had a way with rousing the crowds that gathered at their feet. They each had made massive strides with their particular countries, but had, at the end of it all, rather left some very important figures out of it.

Things were changing, and as the years dragged on and the world slowly climbed into a more modern and progressive era, the voices of the nation-people were being stamped out.

Maria had all but been cut out of her nations affairs. Ever since the Prussian coup some years before, she’d found it harder and harder to get her two cents in with the Reichstag. Ivan himself felt like nothing more than a trained monkey when it came to his bosses with every passing year.

It was exhausting. But the pact they had just finished up with gave them the hope that perhaps things wouldn’t be quite as messy in the years to come.

“I was surprised they actually sent you, rather than your brother.” They had left the conference room, meandering about the halls of the building idly side by side.

“Yeah, well, evidently the business back in Berlin was a little more important. I think _Herr Schnurrbart_ just wanted to get rid of me for a bit. Can’t really complain. I get to see you, after all.” She grinned up at him, nudging him with her hip as they walked.

Ivan tried not to laugh at her new nickname for her boss. He really did. He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. “You’re going to tear this pact apart as quickly as it was put together, Maria.” He accused, shaking his head disdainfully. Maria just tilted her chin up, looking smug.

“Well, now that the formalities are over,” she started, “we’re not set to leave until tomorrow morning. I was thinking maybe you and I could catch a drink together?"

Ivan hesitated, falling to a standstill in the hallway. Maria stopped a pace or two ahead, turning to look at him quizzically.

"It's," Ivan scowled, wetting his lips, "it's just I'm not sure that's the best idea for us." He started hesitantly, watching as Maria's expression fell. "With things as they are—"

"With things as they are, we should be able to go out for a simple _meal_." Maria cut in stiffly, brows furrowed. "I'm not askin' for the world here, Ivan."

"No, of course not." He breathed out a sigh, finally starting to pace forward toward the reception hall. "Did you know we have a file on you?" He remarked after several long moments of nothing but the sound of Maria's heels clacking against the tile floor. Her brows raised considerably as she tilted her head to look at him.

"No kidding?"

"It's quite extensive." He added, worrying at the end of his scarf with his free hand. He kept his gaze forward as they walked. "It seems you've been rather politically engaged these last few years."

Maria drew in a short breath. He could feel her narrowed gaze on him. "You've been spying?"

"Not me personally, no." Ivan quickly added, casting a side-long glance her way.

"So you've sent your cronies out, then? Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

"Maria, you're not understanding what I'm trying to tell you here." Ivan came to a stop once more, turning to face her directly. He met her gaze, expression stern and serious. _Worried_. "My boss gets paranoid about people who so much as sneeze in his vicinity. Herr Hitler, I hear, won't even take a meal without it being tested first."

"And that warrants keeping tabs on my every move?" Maria asked flatly, looking highly unimpressed and perhaps even a little uncomfortable.

"I never sent them out to find you." Ivan said flatly. " _I'm_ not the one keeping an eye on you, Maria, because I trust you to do the smart thing and _lay low_ ," He added in a murmur under his breath, almost in a hiss, "which you clearly haven't been."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about." Maria quipped dryly before turning on her heel to walk away. He hastily reached out to snag her by the arm, dragging her back toward him. She looked rather taken aback, mouth open in a protest he cut her short of.

"If my men know how much you've done to work against Hitler, how much do you think his own men know?" Ivan stated. Maria didn't look the least bit bothered, however. She yanked her arm free and squared her shoulders, inhaling sharply.

"If you're so worried, then do me a favor and keep your oversized nose _out of it_." She hissed, looking furious. "I know what I'm doing, Ivan."

"Maria—"

She cut him off by turning irately and marching on down the hall. "Forget the drink," she said, voice tight and much too even, "it seems something's come up."

Ivan felt his heart sink into his stomach. He watched her strut down the hall, wisps of loose curls fluttering over her shoulders where she'd neglected to pin them down. Perhaps he'd overstepped his bounds...? Ivan shut his eyes and breathed out a sigh, trying to will the tension out of his body.

Perhaps she was right? Perhaps there was no sense in fretting. Ivan had no control over her actions, after all, so all he could do was trust in her ability to do the right thing carefully, and hope she didn't get herself into trouble.

But trouble was something Maria was _exceptionally_ good at, and that's exactly what gnawed away at Ivan's every nerve.

* * *

It was not the farewell Ivan had been hoping for. He had watched Maria turn and walk away without so much as saying goodbye to her. But he was so taken aback by her unusual demeanor that he couldn't fathom how even to approach her after she'd gone.

Ivan sank into his seat as the chauffeur shut the door after him. Anxiety gnawed at every nerve, sending his stomach in knots and muscles tensing. Desperately, he turned to the file in his hands. They’d gone over those documents too many times to count, but perhaps reading them through once more would ease his worries.

When he opened it, however, a small slip of paper fell out into his lap. He reached for it and smoothed it out between his fingers, reading the neatly typed text apprehensively.

— _ _A little birdie told me this alliance is not to be trusted—__

* * *

 

**1943**

_Stalingrad, Russia_

The battleground in Stalingrad had been all but leveled, and yet the Germans still persisted in their fight despite such abysmal conditions. Ivan had to admit he admired their tenacity, but they had to be downright foolish to believe they still had a shot at winning.

He’d had the good fortune of missing the brunt of the battle, but now that things were winding down, Ivan had been sent in to follow up with their impending victory. The Germans had since been separated into three different pockets, two of which had already issued their surrender. What fighting was left, was left in the north. Ivan didn’t anticipate it lasting for much longer considering how stretched the Germans were for supplies.

And so he was left to find what scattered soldiers he could.

What he found, regrettably, was a fist in the face.

Ivan sputtered and stumbled back, hands shooting up to cover his broken nose and the ensuing stream of blood that followed. He let out a slew of curses, doubling over.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Ivan!” Came an all too familiar voice. Ivan didn’t have to look to know who it was. He’d recognized her the moment she’d stepped out from around the corner.

“What on earth were you thinking?!” He hollered.

“That it wouldn’t have been a real battle if I didn’t get at least one good hit in?” Was Maria’s sheepish reply.

He let out a grunt and sank down to the ground, eyes watering from the sting. “The least you could have done was warn me.” He bit out through gritted teeth.

Maria cackled, but even as she laughed at his misfortune, she kneeled down in front of him to help, fishing out a dirty kerchief to stifle the bleeding. “To be fair,” she started, “your nose makes for an easy target.”

It didn’t take long for the bleeding to stop. When it did, Ivan carefully set about wiping the blood off his face while Maria plopped down next to him. She slid off her helmet, cradling it in her lap as she watched him.

“You cut your hair again.” Ivan stated nasally when he finally chanced a glance her way. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

“Men take me a little more seriously when I do.” She explained. “Easier to take care of, too, given our conditions.”

Ivan hummed, touching at his nose lightly to find the break. “I thought you were working in the hospitals in Berlin…?”

“I was.” She said curtly. “But things didn’t work out.”

“They rarely seem to with you.” Ivan frowned. Maria reached over and smacked him in the chest, huffing. “What was it this time?” He pressed.

“I didn’t kill anybody if that’s what you’re getting at. Things just didn’t work out. Let’s leave it at that. Nothin’ I haven’t been through before.” She sniffed and pulled her knees in, rubbing her hands together to get a little warmth going.

“You got fired, didn’t you?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Sabotage?”

“Maybe.”

Ivan tilted his head back, as if looking to God for guidance. “Unbelievable. I tell you to lay low and keep safe and instead you get yourself thrown on the frontlines.” He shook his head in disdain. “Stalingrad, no less.”

“It was supposed to be a grand victory in the east, but this whole thing was a train wreck from the start. A literal train wreck, except with tanks. Fancy bit o’ work that was.” She leaned forward briefly, sweeping her gaze about their surroundings. The gunfire had diminished quite a bit over the last few days, but there were still sporadic pops and booms in the distance. Nothing but background noise to them at this point.

“I don’t understand why your men haven’t surrendered.”

“Honor? Dignity? There’s a lot of different factors. I personally think they’re all asinine for thinking victory’s a possibility, but Herr Hitler believes we can still win.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“We don’t stand a chance.” Maria agreed. “I mean, we _didn’t_. Still don’t. You’ve already got most of us.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m assuming you’re sending any captives to camps…?”

“POW camps, yes.” Ivan nodded stiffly, closing his eyes for just a moment. He heard Maria stretching out beside him, boots scraping against the loose cobblestones.

“I can’t afford to go with them.” Maria said after a moment of silence stretched between them. “I need to get back to Berlin.” Ivan gave her a sidelong glance. He straightened, finally looking at her full on.

“You’re deserting.” He said flatly.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Maria, I’m not so sure that’s the best idea. This regime is—“

“There’s always some corrupt regime somewhere, Ivan. I’m not fleeing the country, alright? If I were truly deserting, I’d hop on the first plane to New York City and you’d never hear from me again.”

“Maria.”

“I’d take up some showgirl act and become the new hot thing. Maybe a singing and dance number. Any ideas for my stage name? Maybe ‘Angel’ or ‘Jewel’—“

“ _Maria_.” Ivan cut in again, a little more desperately.

“I need to get to Berlin.” She finally said, her tone much more serious and expression oddly stern and fierce. “He sent me out here to get me out of the way, Ivan. I think he was _hoping_ I’d be taken prisoner. I’m not giving him that satisfaction.”

“Just what sort of trouble are you in? What did you _do_?!”

“It’s not your business to know.” She said flatly.

Ivan fell still, a look of incredulity settling on his features. He wasn’t sure what to think about her demeanor just then. It was starkly different than the Maria he’d grown to know. Steely and resolved. Fierce.

Unreadable.

He took in a breath, looked away, and after a moment relaxed back against the wall, resigning to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting the answers he wanted. “I’ll make sure you get out,” he promised quietly, “but the rest is on you.”

Maria smiled and nudged him with her shoulder. “That’s all I need, Big Guy. Now, you got any water in that canteen o’ yours? I’m parched.”

* * *

  _T_ _ehran, Iran_

“What do you mean they’ve stopped?” Arthur demanded, hands braced on the table between the three of them. Alfred stood across from him, shifting his weight from foot to foot agitatedly. Ivan remained quiet, violet gaze glued to the centerpiece of the table, arms folded across his chest.

“They just have. I dunno what else to tell you. Maybe the lines got cut?” Alfred lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “The last I received was the same you all did, and that was months ago.”

“And we still have no idea who they were from?” Arthur pressed.

Alfred simply shook his head, looking indifferent. A few moments of quiet passed, eventually garnering their attention to the only silent party in the room.

“And you?” Arthur started, drawing Ivan out of his reverie. “You haven’t heard anything either?”

“Not a word.” Ivan replied calmly.

“Any thoughts on who it might be, then?”

“A few.”

The silence that followed was aggravating and tense. Arthur straightened, palms turned up toward the ceiling. “Well, go on then. Give me names, you daft bloke. Don’t just stand there.”

Ivan tilted his head, frowning. “I think it would be more pertinent to focus on the last message received, rather than who’s sending them. It could be anyone, England.”

“But it’s one of us, isn’t it? I mean, another nation-person.” Alfred chimed in. “Right? Why else would it just be us receiving them?”

“That is beside the point.” Ivan said a bit more firmly. “Who it is does not matter.” He reached out and tapped a finger on the table, drawing their attention to the single piece of paper between them. Another telegram from their ‘little bird’. “What matters is what Intel we have received has proved rather vital, and what we have is an opportunity to act once more in a manner that just might end this war much more quickly.”

“By starting another front of attack.” Arthur said dryly.

“It worked before.” Alfred rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “That’s what brought ‘em down in the Great War.”

“But that’s a hell of a lot more resources to pull. They’ve practically got the run of the continent, and _then_ some.” Arthur rested his hands on the table once more, looking drained. “They’ve bombed the ever living hell out of my own nation already.”

“And we haven’t them?” Ivan raised his brows. “Hamburg is in ruins. The entire German countryside is being laid to waste and my men are marching on in the east. America’s troops are only just now getting a foothold in the south and—“

“Exactly. Only just. Not to mention he’s got his men spread out in the Pacific chasing Japan down. That’s not even glossing over the mess in _Africa_. Now you want us to focus our efforts in _France_? Because of a blasted piece of _paper_?”

“We’re not even sure it’s France they’re talking about—” Alfred started.

“The damned note is in French, why wouldn’t it be?” Arthur snapped.

“This little bird has proven to be right time and time again.” Ivan interrupted, drawing the attention of the other two back toward him. A brief, tense silence followed before either of them spoke.

“He’s right…” Alfred dropped his hands finally, shoving them deep into the pockets of his bomber jacket. “We’ve routed out spies and hit vital supply lines. That’s not even dipping into the strategic genius this guy has proved to be. Without this Canary business we’d still be months if not years away from where we are now.”

Arthur sucked on his teeth, looking between the other two men stood around the table. Ivan remained calm and placid as ever, gaze nerve rackingly unwavering. Alfred continued his restless shifting back and forth.

“And if we fail?” Arthur asked. “What then? Russia is too preoccupied with the East; we can’t expect help from their end.”

“We can pull plenty of troops elsewhere.”

“And if we _fail_?” Arthur pressed, looking pointedly at the two of them.

Ivan’s gaze flickered to the telegram on the table between them. Slowly, he unfolded his arms and reached forward to pluck the paper off the hardwood, examining it once more as he had many times before. “We won’t.” He said coolly, gaze glued to the neatly typed message clutched between his fingers.

“How can you be so sure…? I mean, it _is_ a lot to just put blind faith into. Even I’m a little hesitant to just jump right into this…” Alfred frowned.

“That’s a first.” Arthur grumbled, drawing a sidelong glare from the other.

“Because,” Ivan continued, lifting his gaze toward the younger nation. A small smile crossed his features, unnerving both the other parties present. “If this…’Canary’ is who I think it is, then there’s no doubt in my mind that we will succeed. I suggest the two of you pull together what men you can and start an offensive on the French coast.”

“You’re that sure…?” Arthur asked cautiously.

Ivan laid the telegram back on the table once more, pushing it toward the other two men. “I am.” He affirmed.

Another silence hung between the three of them. Arthur’s gaze settled on the little slip of paper during the moments that followed, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. He mulled his options, looking briefly to Alfred to gauge his response as well. The verdict was rather evident.

“Alright.” Arthur straightened. “Then I suppose it’s time we bring the issue to our bosses. God willing this bird of ours will continue to prove successful.”

The three men took their leave. The slip of paper remained on the table, face up toward the ceiling for all to see.

  _—A little birdie told me the West holds the key to victory—_

* * *

 

**1748**

_Sans-Souci, Potsdam_

He had expected, like all other things, for the friendship not to last. Maria was a good woman; sometimes painfully honest and a little too forward. However, the life of a nation wasn’t a simple one. Personal relationships were almost always interspersed with national affairs and political agendas. In short, it was difficult to carry on with a private association of any sort.

Maria, he found, was the exception.

She truly considered him a friend, and that was something that struck all sorts of emotions in him. After all, he’d never really had the opportunity to claim _anyone_ as a true friend. Not until Maria.

After their meeting in the Amber Room, Maria had followed through with her request and started up a correspondence with him. The letters he received periodically were quite something, typically filled with all sorts of nuances one could only expect from Maria herself. She was a bright young woman, that was for certain.

But her handwriting was rather horrid.

“You came!”

Ivan started a bit, lifting his gaze from fussing with the buttons on his waistcoat to the excited young woman dashing his direction. It didn’t take long to register who it was. Maria had her skirts hiked up in a most un-lady like manner, white curls their usual mess; though it did seem she’d put some effort into fixing her hair up that day. Somewhat.

“Of course I did.” Ivan looked a little incredulous, watching as she slowed her pace to a standstill in front of him and dropped her dress skirts. “You did invite me. Should I not have?”

She leaned over to catch her breath momentarily, straightening up with a hand pressed against her stomach. “God, these dresses are murder.” She nearly wheezed. “Of course you should have! I wanted you to see the palace! I mean, well, it’s no Versailles, but it’s still beautiful and Fritz loves it. Course he does, he commissioned it.” She shook her head a bit, struggling, it seemed, to keep her thoughts in order. “But that’s not the point. The point is you’re here! And I’m happy to see you!”

Ivan chanced a small smile, shuffling awkwardly in place. “You are? I couldn’t tell. You seem remarkably calm and collected to me.”

She laughed, cheeks rosy and expression bright. “Let’s get you settled in. It’s been a long journey, I’m sure you’re wanting to rest.”

“Quite the opposite, actually.” Ivan lifted his hands to adjust the scarf hung over his shoulders. “I’ve been cooped up in that coach for far too long. I think a walk around the grounds would be welcome.”

“Excellent.” Maria clapped her hands together. “We’ll do just that. But first things first. We need to get your luggage put away and I need to change. We just got back from Berlin and I’ve been itching to get out of this damn corset since they stuffed me into it.”

“It does seem a little…constricting.” Ivan remarked, taking the chance to look her over.

“A little?” Maria balked. “Good sir, I’d _love_ to see you in one of these things. Medieval torture is what it is.” She shook her head irately and motioned for him to follow her, bundling up her skirts in her arms just as before. Ivan embarrassedly trailed after her, trying desperately to keep from staring at her exposed calves as they walked. She had her dress pulled so high up he could damn near see her knickers stretching over her knees.

It was a little more of Maria than he would have liked to see so early into their relationship, that was for certain.

It was a brief sight, at least. By the time Ivan had his things brought in for his stay, Maria had disappeared to shed the layers of her court dress, reappearing soon after in a much more comfortable and unconventional attire.

Not a uniform, but…

“Aren’t those…men’s clothes?” Ivan asked haltingly.

Maria faltered in the doorway, glancing down at her new set of apparel. The only thing she was missing, really, was a waistcoat. She had on boots that came to her breeches and a loose fitting shirt. She pulled at the fabric briefly before looking back up toward him.

“No, these are mine.”

“Yes, but they’re…” Ivan cut himself off, waving a hand as if to dismiss the topic. “Never mind.”

Maria didn’t linger any longer than he did on it. In a matter of seconds, she was all smiles again and eager to get on with the tour.

* * *

“Checkmate.”

Ivan’s shoulders sagged as he sank back into his seat, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. Maria sat across from him, grinning triumphantly as she looked over the board.

“How many is that now?” Ivan asked wearily.

“Enough to matter.” Maria sniffed proudly, folding her arms across her chest as she relaxed. “Would you like to have another go, or…?”

“ _Nyet_. I know a lost cause when I see one.” Ivan finally sat upright, beginning to straighten and reset the chess pieces before them. “Have you practiced just to shame me or are you truly that terrifyingly good?”

“I’m truly just that good.”

“Humble as ever, I see.”

Maria stifled a giggle, helping reset the ivory pieces until they finally had the board set up once more. The sun was beginning to set in the west, coloring the world amber in it’s descent. The evening breeze was nice, fresh, and the sound of the fountain at the end of the terraced slopes was quite relaxing.

One could simply sit and enjoy the sights and sounds without a care in the world.

Why else would the palace be named “Sans-souci”?

“Fritz says I have a remarkable gift for strategy.” Maria continued, shifting one of her pawns forward despite Ivan’s ceding victory to her. Begrudgingly he joined in once more, shifting his own obsidian piece forward. “He’s already put me in charge of a large portion of the military. We had to completely overhaul it. Did you know when he took the crown only two of our five field marshals were young enough to fight?”

“Only two?”

Maria nodded, reaching out to continue the game. “The army spent so much time making sure their muskets were clean they never bothered to learn to shoot them.” She shook her head pithily. “We’ve come a long way since being a duchy, but we’re still pretty far behind in the grand scheme of things. Fritz is working with me to fix what we can. Roads, schools, hospitals; to make a bigger and better Prussia.”

Ivan let out a small hiss when she swiped another pawn off the board.

“We need to get more people to settle in our lands and bolster the economy, but marshland isn’t really that appealing.”

“You say that, but wasn’t Berlin built on a marsh?”

“As was much of northern Europe and the Baltics.” Maria smiled knowingly, watching as Ivan deliberated his next move. He took quite a bit longer this time, trying to go through every possibility he could.

No doubt Maria had already thought up every single scheme he had in mind and then some.

“It’s a matter of turning it into farmland. Something useable and productive.”

“Something like Silesia.” Ivan glanced her way with a modest little smile. Maria grinned and snapped her fingers.

“ _Exactly_ like Silesia. You should have seen her face when she signed it over to me.”

“Who? Austria’s?”

“Who else?” Maria snorted. Ivan’s next move seemed in his favor, though the glint in Maria’s eye as he took her king side castle off the board was worrisome.

“Check.” A glimmer of hope.

His fears were confirmed when she made her next advance. “Check _mate_.”

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re cheating.” Ivan accused.

“You caught me. I’m a mind reader.” She grinned. “I know all your dirty little secrets, Braginsky.” She cackled. Ivan couldn’t even try to outmaneuver her. He tipped his King piece over before she had a chance to rightfully take it on her own.

“Have you ever even lost a game?” He asked desperately.

“Of course I have. I had to start somewhere, didn’t I? I wasn’t born with the innate ability to kick your ass at chess, I worked for it.”

“Solely to beat me?”

“You see any other Russian brutes I can smear in seven moves?”

Ivan chuckled softly and relaxed once more. “It’s a wonder your armies didn’t absolutely decimate us. I’d hate to fight a war where you pulled all the strings.”

“And who says I don’t?” Maria said slyly. “There’s more to warfare than just battlefield strategy.”

“I doubt even you have the capability of persuading an entire continental war in a particular direction, Maria.” He watched as she sat back in her chair, legs crossing at the knee and hands linked behind her head. “I’m not sure anyone is capable of such a feat.”

She simply shrugged, however, unfazed. “You make connections with the right people and you can get just about anything done. It goes hand in hand with battle tactics.” She motioned vaguely toward the board. “Take the war we just wrapped up, for instance.”

“Yes, the one you instigated over Maria Theresa’s birthright,” Ivan began, “of which she still holds.” Maria held up a finger to stop him from continuing.

“What she _doesn’t_ have, though, is Silesia. We couldn’t give a damn about who held the Hapsburg throne. Rulers are a dime a dozen and soldiers are expendable,” she paused, “to a degree.”

“Yes, but eight years for one piece of land…?” Ivan frowned.

“An _expensive_ and _profitable_ piece of land damn near the size of Switzerland.” Maria countered. “I’d rather actually wage a war over something tangible than, say…” Maria pursed her lips as if she actually had to think about it, “France and England’s never ending feud.” Ivan couldn’t stop the laugh he let out.

“Yes, they do seem to drag the rest of us into their spats.” He agreed. “It’s not strictly the obtaining of land, though. War is started for a lot of reasons, Maria, and it takes two parties, if not more.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Maria straightened, “I don’t agree with the whole ‘divide and conquer’ mantra. I spent too much of my time growing up following people who believed that and I’ve seen where it leads them. The Teutonic Order had absolutely no claims to land in the Baltics, but because of their actions, an entire people was wiped out.” Ivan saw the way her expression pinched up, as if almost guilty, however she did little to elaborate on the topic and continued. “With Silesia, we had something of a claim to that land. A small one, but a claim none the less. Austria and I don’t get along, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to pitch a fit every time she looks at me the wrong way.

We’re past conquering uninhabited lands in this part of the world. There’s nothing uninhabited _left_ , just lands already claimed that have yet to be settled. The borders that have been set have been there for anywhere from decades to centuries to millennia. Everything is tied to one of two things.” She held up a fist, stretching out her thumb and forefinger as she listed them off. “Inheritance, or money.”

“Or Despotism.” Ivan added.

Maria mulled that one over before conceding. She nodded, letting her hands rest back in her lap. “Alright, so that makes three, and the third is only under special circumstances. Not every ruler is a despot.”

“Not every despot is a ruler.”

“You’re playing the devil’s advocate here and I don’t like it.” Maria grumped. Ivan chortled and shifted in his seat.

“You just annihilated me at a game my people are rather renowned for. I think I’ve earned the right.”

Maria rolled her eyes and slumped in her chair. “The point is; the world map is like nothing more than a game of chess. You make friends with a margrave over here and win their favor and maybe they’ll lean toward your side in the next fight, contribute a little more money to keep the war effort going. Or, if you’re really feeling dirty, you can chat up the ladies at the next grand ceremony and find out the gossip; who’s sleeping with who, for instance, and exploit it.”

“Blackmail,” Ivan said flatly, “from _you_?”

“I’m not saying I’ve done it,” she huffed, “just that it _can_ be done, okay? Most of this is hypothetical.”

“But not all.”

Maria flashed him a worrisome grin, reaching out to pluck his toppled king piece from the board. “The point _is_ ,” she repeated, “information comes in all shapes and sizes and _none_ of it is useless. They say Rome was built in a day and fell just as quickly and I can tell you now,” she waved the piece at him pointedly before setting it upright in the middle of the board, “it wasn’t brute strength that did it.”

“You’re a terrifying little woman, did you know that?”

Maria leaned back and folded her arms across her chest once more, chin held high and demeanor absolutely radiating with pride. Ivan paused a moment, eyeing the chess board between them before he finally began to stand. He reached out to flick the king piece back over.

“But your ego is devastatingly large. One of these days they’ll name whatever complex you have after you.”

“You really think so? D’you think they’d use my given name or my christened one?”

” _Gospodi_ ,” Ivan laughed, “how anyone puts up with you is a mystery.”

“Well you seem to do it quite nicely, so you tell me.” Maria hopped out of her chair to follow after him. Even as late in the evening as it was, she still had quite the bounce in her step. Briefly, Ivan had to wonder if she was even capable of sleep.

“Patience,” Ivan answered, “and a lot of self-restraint.” He pulled the door of the palace open and motioned for her to step inside. Maria mimicked giving him a curtsey in gratitude.

“My good Sir.”

And then she promptly stuck her tongue out at him and ducked inside with a cackle.

Lots and lots of patience and self-restraint.

 

 


	8. Red

**1935**

_The Catherine Palace, Detsoye Selo_

“You know what I hate?”

“Mm, enlighten me.”

“The color red.”

Ivan couldn’t help the amused snort he let out. That itself was enough to draw a silly giggle out of Maria who was laid out next to him, sprawled out on the floor.

They were hidden away in the far end of the one room they considered a sanctuary. The amber hues that surrounded them brought a bit of peace to the atmosphere, and for the first time in a while, they were each able to relax and simply pretend the outside world didn’t exist. Having the others’ company certainly bolstered that affect.

Maria’s light laughter died down as she released a sigh, gaze sweeping over the ornate ceiling with a fond, yet bittersweet look.

“I feel like a stranger in my own country.” She admitted, legs drawing in. “Our economy is finally starting to improve, but I have to wonder at what cost.”

“Herr Hitler has been rather…bold…” Ivan admitted. “But I can’t say my own boss is much better.”

“Troubles on your end too, huh?”

“You could say that…” Ivan rested his hands on his stomach, fingers twining together loosely. “Though I think just about everyone does, these days.” He added. “The world isn’t what it used to be. That much is for certain.”

“I kinda miss how it used to be. A lot. Didn’t have to sneak around so much just to catch a break. And my bosses generally liked me more in the past, too.” She glanced over just in time to see him smile.

“Are you saying your current leader doesn’t?” He asked with a note of sarcasm.

“Oh, no, are you kidding? Me an’ Adolf go way back. We’ve made friendship bracelets and everything. He calls me up for advice any time he’s having trouble with Goebbels. Sometimes we even have dinner together.”

“And you never once bothered to invite me.” Ivan sighed dramatically. Maria stifled another bout of giggles and elbowed him in the ribs. He squirmed, hiding his smile in his scarf. “He really does have an awful mustache.” He remarked offhandedly.

“I told you!” Maria cackled. “I swear, one of these days I’m gonna corner him and shave it off myself.” Ivan desperately tried to shush her, stifling his own weak laughter.

“We’re not supposed to be here, remember?” He reminded her quietly. Maria rolled her eyes, but worked on reigning in her amusement.

“Now that’s just the worst. The place you used to call a home being turned into a _museum_.” She shook her head disdainfully. “I suppose it’s better than rubble, though.”

“Infinitely.” Ivan agreed solemnly, letting out a sigh. “I guess that means we’re getting rather old, no?”

“At least I still have my looks.” Maria said wistfully. Ivan chuckled softly. “I missed this…” Maria continued, “I missed _you_.” She turned her head to the side, to look toward Ivan. “And I hate that we have to sneak around just to get our five minutes together. It’s stupid.”

“That’s life, I suppose. One disappointment after another.”

“That’s awful pessimistic.” Maria huffed, turning her gaze back toward the ceiling.

“Find me someone with nothing but good fortune and perhaps I’ll amend that statement.” Ivan countered. Maria pursed her lips, fingers tapping against each other as she thought.

“Jesus.” She supplied. Ivan scowled at her.

“That is quite possibly the _worst_ answer you could have given. You do realize his hands and feet were _nailed_ through? Not to mention all the criticism he endured before all that.”

“Fair enough.” Maria hummed. “I hear Benjamin Franklin lived quite the happy and, uh, _sated_ life.”

“Well he was rather well acquainted with the French, as I recall.” Ivan remarked. “I suppose I’ll give you that one. I should have narrowed it down to our kind alone. There’s much too many humans to give an answer.”

“Well that’s decidedly unfair.” Maria scowled. “There’s not a nation alive who’s gone without some sort of tragedy. Hell, even Liechtenstein hit a rough patch.”

“Which is exactly my point.” Ivan looked her way, brows raised. “There’s a lot we’re not allowed in this life, Maria.”

“There’s a lot we’re afforded, too.” Maria countered. “It’s not all bad.”

“No,” he agreed, “not all.”

“I mean; we’ve been around long enough to experience indoor plumbing. That’s a pretty big deal, I’d think.” She sighed rather heavily, however, a furrow making its way into her brow.

It was difficult to keep up a happy face, even for her. It was something that unsettled Ivan; struck him to his very core. Maria was not the type of person to be put down so easily, she never had been. And yet there she was, looking _worried_ and morose, scared of what was to come.

He had to wonder if she knew something he didn’t…

“What do you think will happen to us when the world ends?” She asked, garnering Ivan’s full attention rather quickly. He looked at her, astonished.

“Who’s the one being pessimistic _now_?” He accused.

“Shut up, it’s an honest question.” Maria grumbled.

Ivan sighed briefly, crossing his legs at the ankle as he thought. “It depends,” he finally started, “is the world still intact?”

“Sure. But humans no longer exist and civilization has been wiped out as we know it.”

Ivan pursed his lips, frowning. “Perhaps we become mortal…?” He offered in reply. “We live out our days as humans. Grow old. Die.”

“And if it isn’t intact?”

“Then I suppose we spend the rest of our lives amongst the stars.” He glanced her way briefly. “That doesn’t seem too bad an idea, now, does it? I’ve always found the stars comforting.”

Maria wriggled uncomfortably, linking her hands behind her head. “You can’t breathe in space. It’s a giant vacuum.”

“We’ll wear helmets.”

“What about air?”

“We’ll bring it along in tanks.” Ivan shrugged. “Lots and lots of air tanks.” He added. “An entire ship full.”

Maria finally let out a soft giggle, casting an amused grin his direction. It was enough to finally put his nerves at ease, if only just for a bit. “You ever think we’ll get there?” She asked.

Ivan nodded. “Without a doubt. We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Maria finally rolled onto her side, pillowing her arm under her head. “Alright then, it’s settled.”

“What is?” Ivan tilted his head to look at her curiously.

Maria smiled widely, her features illuminated in the golden glow cast off the amber surrounding them. “You and me,” she said, “and a date among the stars.”

* * *

**1958**

_Nations' Estate, Moscow_

 The blackouts had started decades before. Ivan couldn’t quite place exactly when they had begun, but they had been particularly frequent during Stalin’s iron fisted reign.

His temper was short; it always had been. But more and more he found it harder to keep it controlled. When something pushed him over the edge, his thoughts simply went blank, and all he saw was red.

A little ironic considering the nation he represented…

The trouble was, when the red faded and his senses were once again his own, he had no recollection of what had happened. More often than not, he came to find nothing but wreckage and destruction. Smashed furniture, broken tableware, terrified faces…

…blood.

This time, when he “awoke”, it was to find himself pinned to the ground with his arms wrenched behind his back and face pressed into the floor rather painfully. His lips and chin felt wet and warm, smeared with blood still dribbling from his broken nose.

Toris and Eduard were the ones holding him down, and not far away Elik was sat slumped against the wall nursing all sorts of contusions. Split lip, black eye, bloody nose. He cradled his wrist against his chest as if it had been broken, and with the deep bruising already beginning to settle in place, there wasn’t much doubt about it.

Ivan shifted, grimacing when his body protested to the movement. He was sore all over, could feel the sting of deep scratches on his face and the ache of fractured bones.

“Let go…” He all but gurgled, mouth thick with blood. He’d bit into his tongue at one point, leaving the taste of iron on his lips.

Toris and Eduard were hesitant, but when they took note of his decidedly less lethal demeanor, they backed off. Slowly, Ivan pushed himself up onto his knees, grunting with the effort.

And then his gaze settled on the hunched over figure a few feet away.

Maria dragged in ragged breaths, coughing and wheezing in a desperate attempt to get air into her lungs. Her face had gone sheet white, lips almost blue from lack of oxygen. His gaze flickered down to where her hand clutched weakly at her throat, at the deep purple bruises blooming into view from being throttled.

She had her other arm curled around her chest, as if her ribs had been broken.

Ivan shut his eyes, trying desperately to remember what had happened, to remember what had started it all.

But everything came up blank.

He could not remember, but he’d seen enough to know he’d crossed a line he never thought he could. The bruises on Maria’s neck were all too telling of just whose hands had been there.

He released a breath, as if a pile of rocks had settled on his chest and left him suffocating. He tried desperately, unsuccessfully, to convince himself he hadn’t just tried to kill Maria.

But even he wasn’t that foolish.

* * *

**1815**

_Paris, France_

Francis was in shambles. Then again, everyone was. Napoleon had ravaged the European continent and left a lot of carnage in his wake. But the would be emperor was now deposed and the King put back on his throne, and so the bulk of Europe could finally let out a breath of relief and begin to move on.

Ivan was hard pressed to do so. It was the second time they had ousted Napoleon. It was the _seventh_ coalition they had put together to fight against him. A lot of people had been hurt.

Maria most of all.

Her land had been reinstated, of course, and her borders returned to their pre-war status; however no amount of bargaining could have made up for the loss of her little brother. Holy Rome was dead; had been for several years, but Maria was so entrenched in the betrayal she felt she couldn’t move past the loss.

In reality, it was the British who delivered the final blow to the Grande Armée, but among the nation-people, Maria had taken over that role quite decisively.

Ivan hadn’t been there to see it, but he rather wished he had been.

Francis dragged his gaze up from his lap to look at the looming figure before him. A weak, decidedly fake smile pulled across his lips. “Ah, if it isn’t my dear friend.” His voice was hoarse, throat covered in nasty bruises from being gripped too hard and throttled. There were bandages everywhere. Nose broken, lip split. “I was wondering when you’d show.” Eyes so tired and mirthless even Ivan felt a little sorry for him.

“A pity I arrived so late.” Ivan tugged his gloves loose, expression rather placid as he looked at the damage that had been done. “I would have liked to give you your just reward, but it seems Maria has already beaten me to it, from what I hear. What a shame,” his lips curled up a bit at the corners. “and I had such wonderful ideas for you.”

Francis prickled uncomfortably under Ivan’s steady stare. “I’m well aware of the damage I caused.” He said quietly. “But don’t act as if you’re any better. We’ve all done terrible things. Even you.” Francis’ frowned quite heavily. “ _Especially_ you.”

“I don’t recall murdering my friend’s younger brother.”

“As if what you did to Poland was no better?” Francis bit out harshly. Ivan clenched his jaw. “You’re a fool just like _her_ to think things can go so easily for us. You’re a fool if you think she’s _innocent_ and untarnished. Don’t forget she had a hand in that affair; she’s just as wretched as the rest of us.”

“I think it would be wise to quit talking.” Ivan cut in, gaze narrowed and body tense. Francis seemed to reel back, stifled by the mere pressure of Ivan’s presence. An uncomfortable silence hung between them for several long moments. Ivan’s stare didn’t waiver, and Francis began to squirm anxiously.

“Do you know what they call her?” Francis finally spoke up. “What my men have taken to calling her?”

Ivan remained silent.

“The White Demon of the Prussian Army.” Francis continued. “They’ve little reason to think otherwise, especially considering her actions at Waterloo.” He motioned toward the various bandages littered over his frame, to the bruises on his neck, the cuts on his face from being pummeled. “I cut her down in Wavre,” he went on, “quite literally. When I left, she was on the ground, half-conscious. I had thought she was out of the battle for good, but who should appear during the final moments at Waterloo other than her, drenched in her own blood and so frenzied she paid no attention to the calls of surrender or England’s attempts to restrain her.”

“She did threaten to wring the life out of you at Tilsit.” Ivan recalled rather bemusedly.

“Seems she’s a woman of her word.” Francis rested back against the pillows behind him. “She’s not a being to be trifled with, much like you. The difference is she’s much too good at hiding her nature. She wears her heart on her sleeve, I’ll be the first to tell you that. But everything else about her…” He shook his head stiffly.

“She’s not to be underestimated.” Ivan folded his arms across his chest. “She’s a tiny woman, yes.”

“But she has an enormous temper.” Francis added in agreement. “What’s the phrase… Big things come in little packages?”

“Something of that nature.”

Francis hesitated a moment before speaking again, eyeing Ivan curiously. “You called her by name.” He finally noted, and watched as Ivan’s façade fell briefly. “I wasn’t aware you two were that close.”

“We’ve kept up a correspondence over the years.” Ivan said rather blandly.

“And that warrants an exchange of names…?” Francis quirked a brow. “If that were the case, I would be calling you ‘Vanya’ by now, I’d think.” He watched as the other tensed and tightened his stare.

“Alexander has sympathized with her royal family.” Ivan countered shortly.

“And so have you her, it seems.”

“It’s not your business.”

“Oh, but I _must_ know.” Francis preened. “Come now, Russia, you didn’t come all this way to check on _me_. You and I both know that.”

“ _Frantsiya_.”

Francis fell quiet briefly, expression smug. He tapped at his temple lightly. “We all have our special skills. America has his strength. Prussia has her intellect. You can break a man with nothing more than a look or one swing of those meaty fists of yours.” He then motioned to himself. “And I’m rather well versed in the art of reading people. Relationships are the very heart of my nation, Russia. Of _me_.”

“Regardless, what could that information possibly afford you? It’s useless.” Ivan tilted his head a bit, looking frustrated.

Francis ‘tsked’ softly. “No, my friend. Every bit of information has it’s uses. Never forget that.”

Ivan shifted in place, looking unimpressed. “You know too little to make assumptions.”

“Do I?”

“Keep pressing the issue and those ideas I had earlier will seem quite a bit more appealing than before.” Ivan cut in harshly. “Or are you truly such a glutton for punishment?”

“Of course not. I’m simply wondering how it is Prussia of all people managed to weasel her way into your empty shell of a heart.”

Ivan’s fists clenched as he stepped forward threateningly. Francis immediately held his hands up in surrender.

“Is it so hard to accept that I’m actually capable of having a lasting friendship?”

“No,” Francis waited until Ivan relaxed before he lowered his hands, “it’s simply curious that you’re trying so hard for _her_.”

“There’s nothing curious about it.” Ivan turned to leave, effectively drawing the conversation to an abrupt end. “With her, I don’t have to.”

“Ivan.” Francis’ tone had gone quite serious quite quickly. Ivan stilled, glancing over his shoulder toward the weary figure. Francis straightened a bit, eyeing Ivan sternly. “Do try not to hurt her, won’t you?”

Ivan's expression pinched up a bit, as if Francis had hit a particularly sensitive nerve. He remained silent, however, leaving Francis' words unrequited. Instead, Ivan turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving Francis behind in his silence.

* * *

**1979**

_East Berlin, DDR_

“I see you’ve decided to forgo festivities.” Ivan said calmly as he tucked a scrap of paper in his coat pocket. He eyed the pair of legs poked out from underneath the Trabant mounted on a car jack. It wasn’t but a moment later that the figure slid out from under the vehicle, exposing a pale face with bits of grease and motor oil smeared on her features.

Maria let out an annoyed snort, dragging herself back under the car just as quickly as she’d recognized him. “What do you want, Russia?”

He grimaced a bit at the name, casting his gaze away. “It’s your birthday,” he said evenly, “I thought I’d give my congratulations.”

“It is _not_ my birthday.” Maria bit out irately.

Ivan drew in a breath, closing his eyes a moment to keep his temper even. It was quite a bit easier to do nowadays, but the fear was still there that he’d take one step too far. Finally, he released a sigh and tried to relax.

“I came to talk.” He finally said, watching her fidget about as she worked.

“About what?” There was a soft clink. A socket wrench went skidding across the floor a short distance into a menagerie of other tools. Not a moment later and she’d snagged another for use.

Ivan took a moment to answer, nerves beginning to get the better of him.

“Us.” He said.

Maria fell still.

Slowly, she slid back out from under the car, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Please…” Ivan added quietly, desperately almost.

It was silent for much too long. Maria sat there for several moments, tugging her gloves loose before rubbing her hands down with a stained rag. She seemed to be deliberating, and very deeply at that. Eventually she stood, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve before tossing the rag onto the work bench.

“Let me close up shop. I don’t live far from here.”

Ivan felt reluctant relief flood over him. The apprehension was still there, but Maria had at least agreed to his request.

It was far more than he expected to get, and for that he was grateful.

* * *

Her new living quarters were quite a bit smaller than he had anticipated. No formal dining room, just a kitchen and living room, and one master bedroom with a single bathroom to accommodate tenants _and_ guests. He couldn’t describe it as quaint like her former residence in pre-war Germany, but rather…cramped and bland.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking over the spartan arrangement. It shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Most of her belongings were either with her brother, or had been destroyed in the War.

“What’s this about?” Maria finally asked, drawing him back to the present. His gaze flickered away from the television set and back to his host.

“I,” he started uncertainly, shifting in place, “I found something when I was cleaning out my desk. Something that may interest you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a moderately sized felt box. Maria watched apprehensively as he withdrew it, but her expression suddenly went lax when she recognized just what it was.

“You kept it…”

“Of course I did.” Ivan said quietly, offering it too her. “It was a gift from a very dear friend.”

Maria took the box in her hands, gently prying it open to view the daguerreotype inside. Just like new, the plated sheet of metal shone with the image of her and Ivan from over a century before; Maria sat in a chair smiling brightly toward the camera, and Ivan stood stiffly beside her looking unsure of himself.

“What happened to us?” Ivan finally asked quietly, watching as Maria traced a finger around the edge of the photo.

His words seemed to draw her back out of her reverie. Her gaze lifted to meet his, confused at first, and then angry.

“You don’t know?” She asked flatly, brows arched. He grimaced a bit, looking to the side almost shamefully. When he shook his head in the negative, her temper seemed to flare once more. “You don’t have a damn _fucking_ clue what happened between us!?” She started incredulously. “Is that a joke?”

“East—”

“You have no idea what happened and you expect to just come over here unannounced after _twenty years_ and _then_ some to patch things over with a,” she snapped the felt box shut and thrust it at him angrily, “a damn _bribe_?!”

“Am I truly that fickle to you!?” Ivan snapped, irritation getting the better of him. “I came here to _talk_ , Maria, to _fix this_.”

“And so you bring in sentimentality to sway me over?”

“That wasn’t—”

“So what, a peace offering then!?”

“ _Maria!_ ”

“Quit _calling_ me that! You lost the right to use my name _years_ ago, Russia.”

The felt box crumpled in Ivan’s hold, mixed with the sound of a brittle copper plate snapping. The moment he realized what had happened, he released it, letting it clatter to the floor where it laid untouched by either of them. Maria stared at the fractured box; at the bits of wood that had splintered through the fabric encasing it.

His chest ached.

“Russia…?”

God, it ached. No, it _hurt_. It hurt as if it were pulling apart and—

“You’re bleeding…”

Ivan started a bit, swiveling his gaze down to look at the front of his shirt. Sure enough, bright red was steadily staining the fabric. Only then did he notice the wet warmth of it spreading over his chest.

“Oh…” He touched at his shirt, just over his chest where he knew the scar to be. “That…wasn’t supposed to happen…” He mumbled, almost numbly.

“That’s…that’s a lot of blood. Ivan, you’re losing too much blood…!”

His gaze flickered up to Maria’s, but by the time she came into view, he could no longer hear her.

Everything was cold.

And seconds later, everything went dark, too.


	9. Break

**1949**

_Kaliningrad, USSR_

The clouds were colored pink with the early morning sunrise. The light crept over the roof tops, filtering its rays across the city streets; illuminating store fronts and uneven cobblestone roads. Ivan and Maria stood silently side by side, gazes fixated on the mound of rubble before them.

The Konigsberg castle had been leveled.

So much had been lost to that damned war. Much more than Ivan ever cared to admit. And yet even now the world still found a way to chip at the last bits of happiness he had left. During the war, the Nazi’s had ravaged countries for historical assets. Paintings, sculptures, scrolls. Anything of merit and value. The Amber Room had been among them, hastily dismantled and transported to Königsberg where it remained until the Russian’s came through and the city fell to war like so many others.

There was no knowing if the room had been smuggled out, or if it laid in that rubble somewhere still in nothing but pieces.

Ivan didn’t know what to feel. What he _did_ feel was numb, even as Maria tried to hide her uneven breaths and tears as she looked upon one of her first true settlements reduced to nothing but a pile of broken red bricks.

“This was my first home…” She said weakly, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for far too long. “This was…this was the first place I could truly call _my_ home. I even helped put a few bricks in the walls. Just over there.” She motioned toward the eastern most mound of rubble. “I had a room. A trunk. A little desk to study at…” Maria swallowed thickly, pushing her bangs back out of her face as she looked at the wreckage. “It was the first moment in my life where I actually felt worth something.”

The Teutonic Order had struggled for so long to find it’s foothold in the world, and they’d finally managed to do just that in the Baltics. Maria may have been born in the middle east, but her true home had been Königsberg for the longest time. In some ways, it still was.

But now? Now Königsberg laid in ruins just like so much else. It was Russian land now, complete with a new name. Kaliningrad. Maria’s lands had been divvied up, spread amongst the neighboring nations with nothing left but the eastern half of Germany, which fell under Russia’s control.

She was lucky to be alive. And yet…

“I’ve lost everything…” She said weakly.

Ivan chanced a glance her way briefly, but remained silent. Her gaze was still glued to the wreckage before them. Red bricks piled high in the square that used to be her home.

“Not quite,” Ivan finally spoke, “you’re still alive.”

The piercing glare she shot his direction made his blood run cold. He’d seen that look before, but this time he had the misfortune of being the one she was angry with.

“And for what?” She snapped. “You call this living?” She jabbed a finger toward the rubble before them. “What’s the purpose of me being here if I can’t even take part in the affairs of _my_ people? This isn’t living. This? This is existing. I’m still here, but for what?

“Maria—“

“Don’t you dare ‘Maria’ me. Not after _this_!” She jabbed at the wreckage once more with a shaking hand, finger outstretched. “Not after _abandoning_ me when I needed you the most!”

“That is not what—“

“Not _what_!? What was it supposed to be, then?” She nearly shrieked, chest heaving. Ivan tried to look at her, but tears were seeping down her cheeks and the scathing glare she gave him was enough to make _him_ uncomfortable.

 “Somehow, in the middle of all this _fucking_ mess, everything I worked for; everything I fought tooth and nail for over _centuries_ is gone because of a god damn sheet of _paper_ with your name on it. I have _nothing_.” Her voice raised in tone, gradually becoming louder and angrier. “What I _do_ have, I don’t want. What I _should_ have, I’m not allowed. And the only god damn person in this world who seems to still give a shit is Ludwig, but because of _you_ ,” she jabbed at him harshly, “I don’t have him either!”

Ivan took in a breath, forcing himself to look at her once more, sternly. “If you hadn’t been reinstated as East—“

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t _want_ to be reinstated?!” She snapped. The silence that hung in the air was stifling. Her words weighed heavy between them. Ivan felt as if his stomach was in knots.

“You don’t mean that.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“The hell I don’t.” She seethed. “But what the fuck do you know.” Ivan flinched. “You were my closest friend, and yet you helped destroy everything I’d worked for. If you think forcing me to live in some compound in _Moscow_ is going to fix anything, you are sorely mistaken, _Russia_.”

The name cut through him like a thousand knives.

Ivan shut his eyes and let out a sharp breath. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, couldn’t even begin to form an apology. So instead he stood there quietly. Maria held her stare for several long moments, breathing heavily. Only after she seemed to reign in her temper did she speak again.

“Francis was right,” she muttered, “you do hurt people.”

* * *

**1953**

_The Kremlin, Moscow_

“Are you out of your god damned mind?!” Maria slammed a newspaper on Ivan’s desk, the front page showcasing images of riots in Berlin. Ivan slowly lifted his gaze from the paperwork he’d been attending to, meeting Maria’s fiery one. “My people ask for help and you send _tanks_!”

“You seem awfully passionate about a nation you don’t want.”

“They’re still _my_ people. If you would just let me go to Berlin—”

“That’s out of the question.” Ivan said flatly, leaning back in his seat. Maria fell silent, eyes wide.

“What do you mean ‘out of the question’? That’s my home. That’s _my_ home!”

Ivan folded his hands in his lap. “Because there’s no assurance that you won’t flee to the west.” He replied.

“You don’t trust me.” Ivan’s gaze did not waver.

“No,” Ivan lifted his chin a bit, “I don’t. You’ve given me little reason to. You can hardly take care of yourself to begin with, let alone a nation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I do just fine—”

“Is that a joke?” Ivan let out a dry laugh, leaning forward a bit. “Do you think I don’t notice the bottles missing from my store? You spend each night getting drunk just so you can fall asleep. You walk about that house like the living dead most days. You expect me to allow you to _leave_? You must be the one out of your mind, especially to come all this way to chastise me on how I take care of a problem for a nation you admitted to never wanting.”

Maria fell quiet, although her temper still showed in her labored breathing and clenched fists.

“Let me put your worries to rest, _East_.” The name was bitter on his tongue. He hated it, no doubt, just as much as she did. “You won’t have to lift so much as a finger. You have a roof over your head, a hot meal every day, and all the booze you can drink to drown out your misery and disappointment just like everyone else.”

“I can’t fix what your country did to you. I _tried_ to fix what the allies forced upon you. But of all the people I thought capable of overcoming anything, of overcoming _this_ ,” he jabbed a finger at the newspaper, “I thought you would be the one.” He finally stood, chair scraping against the hardwood. He scooped up the newspaper, rounding the desk. Maria immediately began to back away, as if afraid. “You’ve changed,” he said finally, “and I’m rather disappointed to find it’s for the worse.”

“That’s not fair,” Maria started, however she fell quiet when Ivan wrenched the office door open and looked down at her with his icy stare. She shrank away, ducked her head down, and quickly turned to leave without another word.

He swung the door shut behind her, hand gripping the knob so tightly it began to give under his fingers _._

How had it come to this...?


	10. Restart

**1851**

_Hyde Park, London_

“This seems silly. Are you sure about this?” Ivan fidgeted in place, glancing wearily down at Maria who stood next to him. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the contraption in front of them.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of it?” She jested, prodding him in the shoulder teasingly. He ruffled a bit, scowling ahead.

“Of course not.” He muttered defensively. “It’s just…odd.”

“So was the steam engine.” She gave him a reassuring nudge.

“Is the posing stand truly necessary, though? I feel like a puppet.”

“Well you’re not supposed to move or you’ll mess up the exposure, so…yes.”

Ivan heaved a sigh, shoulders sagging as he watched the men prep the photographic device. A large box stood before them, looming almost ominously. They were in the process of cutting and polishing the silver-copper plate to be used for the image. It would be several more minutes before the apparatus was ready for use, but Maria seemed fascinated enough to simply watch as the staff worked to ready it.

“Makes you wonder what else our people are capable of coming up with. Did you see those revolvers earlier? I can’t believe they’ve got pistols that shoot so fast already. It used to take ages just to ready a musket.”

“I still remember the days when they didn’t exist at _all_.” Ivan squirmed, throwing an annoyed look back toward the metal stand behind him.

“Mm, don’t you miss the days of chain-mail and heavy armor?”

“Not in the slightest.” He deadpanned.

“What a coincidence! Me neither.” Maria laughed. Ivan gave a short snort.

“As far as I recall, you never _had_ to wear any such thing.”

She just sniggered beside him. After several long moments, the device was finally prepped and ready, and they were given the good to go on taking their final pose for the picture. Maria sat in the chair beside Ivan, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture straight and professional as could be. Ivan remained rather awkwardly stood beside her, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Just relax, Ivan.” Maria glanced up his direction, watching as he fussed with the ends of his collar anxiously. He forced his hands down after a moment, one behind him and the other resting on the back of the chair. “And smile.” Maria added.

Ivan wasn’t sure he could muster up a smile for so long. It was silly how nervous he was about the machine in front of them. It was so odd, the concept of an immediate portrait. In the past, one had to sit for _hours_ for an artist to paint their image. Now?

All they had to do was slide the lens cap off, and wait for a mere _minute_.

The process was rather lengthy, but Maria had insisted on being walked through every step as they prepared for the photograph. Now, with the daguerreotype ready, it was time to take the picture. For sixty seconds, Maria and Ivan posed while the team working the contraption went to work. One man off to the side kept time with his pocket watch, and when the seconds dwindled down to zero, he stepped back up to the box and slid the lens cap back on.

Ivan relaxed, releasing a heavy breath while Maria immediately went to her feet and joined the photo team to see how the remainder of the process worked.

More chemicals, more heat. But almost like magic, the picture slowly started to come into view.

Maria bounced giddily in place. “Look!” She motioned Ivan over. “Look! It’s us! Can you believe that?!” Neither of them had seen anything like it before, only murmurings of the process that had been in development for over a decade.

But there it was, clear as day. On a shiny piece of silver plated copper was the very distinct image of Maria sat in a chair, and Ivan stood next to her.

“I wonder If they’ll figure out a way to do these in color? Wouldn’t that be something…” Maria hummed.

Ivan squinted a bit at the plate, glancing over the fine details. Maria was actually smiling in the picture; quite widely in fact. Meanwhile there he was looking stiff and the very definition of uncomfortable. Maria looked so delicate, but there was still that strong presence she had that seemed to radiate from the image itself.

“You should keep it.” Maria said. “That way you can gaze upon my gorgeous face whenever you want.”

Ivan stifled a laugh. “What a humble creature you are.” He shook his head, watching as they framed the daguerreotype and set it in a felt box. “You keep it.” He offered. “I have the Amber Room in my possession, after all. I know how much you miss me between visits; it’s rather pitiful.”

“Pitiful?” Maria balked, finally taking the offered box. She took a moment to thank the men that had assisted in the process and gave them a large tip, but as soon as her and Ivan turned to leave the set, she swatted him on the arm. “You should be honored you even cross my thoughts when we’re apart. I’m a busy woman, you know. I have little time to dilly dally on being _sentimental_.” She sniffed, eliciting more quiet laughter from Ivan.

“So you _do_ think of me when we’re apart.” He glanced her way with arched brows, watching as a flush crossed her cheeks. She stammered a bit, eventually shooting a glare his way.

“Don’t go reading into it too much! Mostly I’m just thinking about how good a target your nose makes for a well-placed punch.”

“As if you could even reach it.” He teased. “I could simply sneeze and you would blow away. You looked as if that chair was trying to swallow you whole.”

“Well if you had sat in it, it would have ceased to exist.” Maria quipped. Ivan shook his head aloofly, slipping his hands into the pockets of his overcoat as they walked. “Sure would hate to get on your bad side.”

Ivan fell still, his chest giving a rather painful ache.

The thought of it alone was enough to make his anxiety skyrocket. His relationships rarely lasted, after all. It was rather uncommon for Ivan to make a friend and _keep_ them. Most either turned against him, or had the misfortune of pressing the wrong buttons and finding a more ferocious beast then they had bargained for.

He was a well-controlled man. Ivan always did his best to keep the peace and avoid confrontation, but solely because he was painfully aware of how he was _during_ conflict. His temper only stretched so far…

…and he was a particularly devastating force to be reckoned with when that line had been crossed.

“Ivan?” Maria shifted to face him more, a hand resting on his elbow. “Hey, are you alright?”

Ivan hesitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “It…” He started, but ended up faltering and falling quiet once more. He frowned and looked off to the side, trying to formulate the words as best he could. “The last thing I want is for our political affairs to get in the way of our friendship.” He said slowly. “It scares me to think that one day you might grow to hate me, just as everyone else has.”

She fell silent, expression sobering up quite a bit at the weight of his words. “They don’t hate you, Ivan.”

He looked back toward her, frowning. “Yes,” he said quietly, “they do. More accurately, they’re quite scared of me because they _have_ gotten on my bad side. Because they’ve seen me at my worst and…” he shook his head, looking nervous and uncomfortable, “…it terrifies me to think that you’ll grow to be like them, too.”

“Oh, Ivan…” Maria let out a breath and tugged at his sleeve until he slid his hand out of his pocket. She curled her fingers around his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I doubt I could ever truly hate you. Even after everything Francis has put me through, I still consider him a friend. Maybe not one I can _trust_ , but someone I can talk to.”

Her hand was small compared to his, but rough and calloused from work. Delicate as she looked with her petite frame and soft face, she was no proper lady. Beneath that dress was a warrior. A woman who could and would stand her own and defend herself without so much as flinching.

It amazed him, sometimes, how such a lethal person could look so innocent and beautiful.

“You and me?” She said, pulling him back out of his thoughts and into the conversation once more. “We’re past politics, I’d like to think. We’ve fought wars on opposing sides and yet we’re still here, together.”

“And what if one day it’s our nations that go against one another? What happens if it’s not us allied with opposing forces but us alone…? What then?”

“Then we pull up our knickers and work through it one step at a time.” Maria told him, chin lifted. “Just because your boss spits on mine doesn’t mean I’m about to kick you in the shins in retaliation; and let me tell you, I’ve got a mean kick.” She smirked.

It was hard not to smile at that, especially when she nudged him with the toe of her shoe. After a moment, Maria thrust the felt box toward him.

“If you’re so worried about it, then take this.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Maria gave it another pointed shove against his chest, forcing him to take it in his free hand. “Keep it, and any time you have doubts, just take a look at it and remember the day we spent here, together. Remember what we talked about.”

Ivan hesitated, looking down at the red felt box in his hand. He ran a thumb over the fabric, brows furrowed as he contemplated. Finally, he nodded. He lifted their linked hands and pressed a gentle kiss against the knuckles of her fingers.

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, “you’re much kinder than I deserve.”

Maria grinned, cheeks flushed such a perfect pink. For a moment, her gaze cast to the side embarrassedly, but just as quickly it flickered back up to his; bright and glimmering like the Daria-i-Noor.

“You deserve much more than you think. Now let’s go back to that leech prognosticator display. I wanna see how it actually works.”

“As long as you promise not to shriek this time.”

“I did not _shriek_! I just—”

“Squealed like a frightened pig?” Ivan said cheekily.

 _“_ Oh, now you’re _definitely_ getting kicked.”

* * *

  **1979**

_East Berlin, DDR_

He awoke in a bed he did not recognize, in a room he’d never been in.

It sounded like the plot of some raunchy American film, but in reality it was simply Ivan coming to in Maria’s room. He took in a sharp breath, filling his lungs with cool, crisp air.

“Welcome to the world of the living.”

He started a bit, lifting his head off the pillow to see Maria standing in the doorway, toweling her hair dry. Ivan gave a short grunt in response, pushing himself into an upright position. His chest twinged painfully in response to the movement.

“Careful,” Maria told him, “you’ll pull your stitches.”

“My what?” Ivan blinked at her blearily before following her gaze down to his chest. A large white bandage had been wrapped over the wound.

Thankfully without the use of adhesive bandages.

“Oh…” His gaze flickered back up toward Maria, who rounded the end of the bed to perch on the edge of it. “I thought you would have left me to bleed out.” He admitted quietly.

“All over _my_ floor? Not a chance.”

“Anyone else would have.”

“Well I’m not ‘anyone else’, I’m me,” she said succinctly, “and I don’t do that.” She rested her towel in her lap, watching as Ivan slowly came to his surroundings. “I carried you in.” She explained when he looked puzzled as to how he’d gotten there. “Well, dragged you. You’re a hefty guy but I’ve still got a nations’ strength at my disposal.”

“I see…” He rubbed absently at the bandage, stitches itching uncomfortably where they were trying to heal.

“That’s the second time I’ve patched that up.” She remarked.

“It is.”

“Care to explain why?”

“Not particularly.” He let his hand fall back down into his lap, avoiding her gaze as best he could.

It was hard to ignore her stare. After a moment, he reconsidered. “I will,” he began, “but only if you explain how we ended up like this.”

Maria pulled one of her legs up onto the bed with her, folding her hands in front of the ankle with her chin resting on the knee.

“That one’s easy. Your chest busted open and you nearly bled out in my kitchen.”

“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.” Ivan scowled.

“You betrayed me.” She answered instead, rather bluntly at that. “But I suppose that’s over simplifying things.” Maria watched as Ivan run his hands over his face, trying to wake himself up a bit more from his delirious slumber. When his violet gaze settled back on her once more, she continued.

“I spent two years locked up in that war…" She shifted slightly, thumbs twiddling. “Two years spent mercilessly interrogated and tortured, used as a lab rat in the hopes to find the key to immortality. They kept me in a cell block. A literal _dungeon_ , actually, but it was an old medieval fortress so that wasn’t too surprising. I found it kind of funny.”

Ivan watched her as she spoke. He took note of how steady she was about it. No anxious tics or restless mannerisms. Just…Maria talking.

“When they started clearing the building out, I found my opportunity to escape. Hid out the last week or so of the war until the allies found me. I was…in bad shape. They wanted answers. I wouldn’t give them any.”

“After enduring all of that… after every fucked up procedure they put me through, I only wanted two things. I wanted my brother,” she said, “and I wanted you. I wanted my best friend.”

Ivan exhaled sharply, eyelids sliding shut.

“But you weren’t there.”

He could feel her stare bearing into him. He ducked his head down almost shamefully, hoping to trick himself into thinking she wasn’t there.

“And when I finally came around and got word of what was going on, I found out you had my lands. You had everything. My people. My nation.” Her head tilted a bit, brows furrowing. “You wiped me off the map and took everything I had as your own.”

“It was _war_ , East.” He tried to cut in.

“It was cruel is what it was.” She retorted.  “The one man I trusted whole heartedly. The _one person_ I was willing to put my blind faith into and you come through and just—” She fell at a loss for words, expression pinched up in a manner he couldn’t attest to seeing before.

A manner that was almost heartbroken.

Slowly, she regained her composure, staring down at the comforter. “You took everything from me.” Maria said quietly.

“I fought to get it _back_ to you.” Ivan scowled. “Why else do you think you’re still standing here? Who do you think it was that pulled every string they had to get you reinstated!?”.

“Getting me reinstated is one thing, but Ivan Braginsky, you took my _brother_ from me.”

He clenched his jaw, hands fisted in his lap. It took a few moments for him to formulate his next words, but when he did, he was remarkably calm as he spoke.

“Bring me my jacket.” He requested.

“You can’t leave; you just got stitches—”

“Bring me my jacket, _please_.” He asked once more, giving her a pointed look. Maria squared her shoulders, eyeing him agitatedly before she stood and marched off to collect the item. Once handed over, Ivan rifled through the inside breast pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.

“Nation affairs are complicated. You of all people know that.” He began, eyeing the script scrawled on the front. Maria tried to eyeball what it read, but he held it at an angle too steep to read. “I never authorized the wall.” He continued, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. “As a matter of fact, my bosses and those in East Germany took extra care to keep that information from me.” Finally, Ivan held the envelope out toward her. “I’m a lot of things, Maria Beilschmidt,” he said, “but heartless is not one of them.” He then motioned for her to take the offered papers.

She was hesitant, but when Ivan remained unmoved she finally reached out to take the envelope in her hands and open it.

What she pulled out were letters. Dozens and dozens of letters.

And every single one of them started to same.

_“Dear Sister”_

* * *

**1986**

_East Berlin, DDR_

“If you had one day where you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?”

Ivan paused mid-drink, eyeing Maria curiously as she stared back at him. “It depends,” he started, “what are the rules?”

“There are none.”

“So even if it’s an impossibility…?”

“You have the option to do it. No time constraints. Nothing. Bend reality to your will.”

Ivan leaned back against the couch where he sat on the floor beside Maria. His gaze drifted toward the television in front of them. It showcased a grainy image of a shifting crowd waiting excitedly for the stroke of midnight.

“I would have an honest, simple meal with my sisters.” Ivan finally answered after several long moments of mulling the question over. “Home cooked. Just the three of us enjoying a dinner and each other’s company. We would talk about anything and everything and there wouldn’t be any animosity amongst us. Just…us as a family.” He fell quiet for a moment, glancing her direction. “You?”

“I’d be back in my flat in Kreuzberg.”

“Theresa’s?”

“Yup.” Maria stretched her legs out, wriggling her toes. “Christmas,” she went on, “with a nice big roast and dumplings; Theresa’s of course. Batch of Christmas cookies and mulled wine.” She fell silent for a moment, her glass held midway as if she wasn’t sure if she was going to drink it or not. “Ludwig would be there. I’d sneak candies in his shoes like I always did.” Maria gently swirled her glass, staring down at the red beverage with her brows furrowed. “Really, if I could pick a specific one, it’d be when you came to visit.”

“I wasn’t there over Christmas.” Ivan reminded her.

“But we did celebrate it.” Maria countered. “Theresa made her dumplings. Ludwig came home early so we all had dinner together. And you were there with us.”

Ivan couldn’t help but smile fondly at the memory of it. “You’re getting sentimental.”

“Damn right I am.” She laughed. “Would you rather I not?”

“No. It’s rather nice to remember such a pleasant time.”

“See? It’s not all bad.” Maria nudged him with her elbow, finally taking a sip of her wine.

“No, I suppose not.” Ivan breathed out a sigh, staring down at the glass cupped between his hands. “But it is hard to remember such things when everything else around you is falling apart.”

“Still worried about Gorby-what’s-his-face?”

“Gorbachev.” Ivan supplied with a soft chuckle. “Not so much. I find it hard to take much interest in national affairs these days.”

“Well with a stagnant economy like yours, who would?”

“You share that economy, Maria, don’t act like it doesn’t affect you.” Ivan frowned.

“The difference is regardless of if I wanted to, I’m technically barred from taking part in any political engagements. I’m not allowed a government job. Tried once; got flat out denied.”

“Really…?”

“I pose a risk to security it seems.” She said dryly before draining the last dregs of her wine. She leaned forward and slid the glass onto the coffee table. “Can’t really blame ‘em.”

“You got yourself in trouble again, didn’t you?” Ivan deadpanned, giving her a rather unimpressed look before his gaze swiveled back toward the television disinterestedly. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I never got arrested.” Maria defended.

“Does it make a difference?”

“I suppose not.”

They lapsed into silence, watching the clock tick ever closer to midnight. New Years was in full swing out in the city streets, but Ivan and Maria had decided to stay in; more-so on Ivan’s request. He didn’t very much like large and noisy crowds after all.

“So why’d you decide to come here?” Maria finally asked. The question had been gnawing at the back of her mind ever since he knocked on her door. “I thought you’d want to celebrate your birthday at home?”

Ivan hesitated before answering, dropping his gaze momentarily. He seemed at odds with how to respond. “That place isn’t home,” he finally said, “and it never was. Beyond that, not a single person will speak with me. I can’t blame them, really. I wouldn’t even speak with me if I were in their shoes.”

Maria watched him quietly for several long moments; at how his expression pinched up as he spoke. Gradually, she pulled her legs in and rested her arms over her knees. “So you came here instead?”

Ivan gave a mute nod at first before adding quietly, “I didn’t want to be alone.” He glanced her way anxiously for a split second before looking away once more. “Just this once at least.”

“Kinda sweet that you thought to visit me.”

“You’re the only one who still speaks with me; where else could I have gone?”

“A bar, perhaps?”

“Not a chance. Too crowded and full of drunken idiots.” He shifted nervously. “Would you rather I leave?”

“Only if you come back with another bottle of wine; that was all I had.” She laughed lightly, pulling a smile out of Ivan despite how hard he tried to hide it. She grinned at him. “No, I’m actually glad you came. I hadn’t made any plans, so I would’ve just been here alone.”

“You didn’t think to invite anyone over?”

“Didn’t really care to.” She shrugged. “Honestly, it’d be pretty awkward. Especially if it was Elik and Andy. They never get along and…things are still kind of weird between Elik and I.”

“Even after all this time?”

“He was pissed I never stepped up and confessed to him; like he didn’t have the option to do it himself.” She added bitterly. “I stopped talking to him after he married Austria. We never really…got back into the groove of how things were.”

“Why _didn’t_ you confess?” Ivan asked curiously, though rather weary of her answer. “It shouldn’t have been a problem if you truly loved him.” He watched her breath in, contemplating over her response.

“That’s the thing,” Maria wriggled anxiously beside him, scowling ahead, “I didn’t.”

“Didn’t love him…?”

“Nope. It was more of something like a school girl crush. I mean he was my only friend for years and I kind of started to idolize him. He was always there for me.”

“I see…”

“But so were you.”

Ivan fell still, keenly aware that Maria was staring at him. He fell short of a reply, remaining silent and perhaps a little uncertain. Maria didn’t try to pry a response out of him. He was grateful for that, at least.

“Don’t know why it took me so long to realize it, but,” Maria rested her chin on her knees, fingers linking in front of her shins, “but that’s why I didn’t stop him.”

“Because of me?” Ivan asked in a rather stilted and dumbfounded manner.

She gave a sheepish smile, but remained resolute in her words. “It really shouldn’t be a surprise. Technically speaking, I’ve already kissed you.”

Ivan cleared his throat nervously, shifting to get more comfortable. He could feel his cheeks burning. He made a point to look anywhere _but_ at Maria. “I’m not sure you could even call it that,” he mumbled, “you fell asleep in the middle of it.”

“But it did happen; that’s what matters. Also, I initiated it.”

“We were drunk. You were drunk.”

Maria finally pushed herself onto her knees, maneuvering to where she could look at Ivan face to face. “You kissed back.”

“You’re trying to get me to admit to something,” he accused, “and I won’t be playing along. This was decades ago, Maria. Why wait until now to bring it up? What does it matter?”

“It matters a lot because you’ve lived your whole life thinking you’re alone when I’ve been right here beside you.”

“Maria,”

“Why come _here_ on your birthday? Why bother trying to fix things between us if it doesn’t matter? Do you see what I’m getting at here?”

“I do,” Ivan said softly, “but I don’t deserve it.”

Maria fell quiet, irritation briefly flitting over her features before she relaxed against the coffee table. “Humor me. Why not?”

Ivan bit down on his tongue, looking horrendously uncomfortable. It took several long moments, but eventually he finally got around to answering. His voice was quiet, though. Just above a whisper.

“I don’t deserve it.” He said again, gaze flickering briefly up to Maria’s, who held her stare unwaveringly. “I don’t deserve _you_.”

“Why?” She asked again.

“I nearly killed you.” He reminded her. “I utterly destroyed the trust and friendship between us, Maria. A decade ago you wouldn’t even speak to me.” Maria tilted her chin up slightly as she listened. “I hurt people. I’ve hurt you plenty enough.”

“And yet here we are.” She tilted her head as she looked at him. “In my apartment. On your birthday. Sharing a drink and talking like we used to.” She paused briefly. “Remember the evening we spent at the Christmas Market?” She asked. Ivan gave a stiff nod. “Remember the talk we had on the park bench? About why you liked New Year’s so much?” Another nod. “What did you tell me?”

“Maria—”

“Answer the question.” She ordered.

Ivan hesitated. Maria watched as he gradually came to terms with the topic of the conversation and gave in. He leaned forward to set his glass next to Maria’s. “Second chances.” He replied before settling back against the couch. He folded his hands in his lap, holding his gaze with hers as best he could.

Maria seemed pleased with his answer. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

“After what I did to you—”

“Do you regret it?” She cut in. “The kiss.” She clarified.

Ivan fell quiet, unsure of how to answer. Maria continued to stare at him steadily, but he made his best effort not to look away. Her brows raised in a pointed manner the longer he remained silent.

“I regret the circumstances.”

“But not the kiss.”

“No,” he said quietly, “not the kiss.”

She scrutinized him as he replied; trying to decide if he was being honest, perhaps. He wasn’t sure. It was unnerving, though, the way she bared into him with her gaze. He felt remarkably exposed.

She had that effect. Always had. There was something about the way she looked at people that was almost conniving; as if she were studying a subject and contemplating their intentions in a manner that was almost methodical. She had the same look when playing chess. Despite her spritely nature, Maria was, and always had been, a very attentive and calculating person. She had, of course, been the representative of one of the most notable military states in Europe.

The countdown for New Year’s had finally begun. In the background, they could hear the crowd chanting the numbers.

_F_ _űnf!_

Maria shifted forward.

_Vier!_

In one swift movement, she maneuvered to straddle his lap. Ivan fell statue still, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

_Drei!_

She brought her hands up to cup his face; thumbs drawing over his cheekbones, gaze steady.

_Zwei!_

Ivan tensed, holding his breath...

_Eins!_

…and Maria leaned in to close the distance between them.

Ivan didn’t remember much of their first kiss. What he did remember was much the same as he felt now; the warmth and softness of her lips against his. The weight of her pressed against him and how his hands fit perfectly on the curve of her back. She had the taste of wine on her lips, just as before. And the touch of her fingers carding through his hair sent familiar tingles down his back and a warmth in his chest.

For the briefest moment, Ivan forgot how to breathe, and only when their lips parted and Maria leaned back did he manage to drag in a breath.

Even with her forwardness, Maria’s cheeks were still dusted a wonderful shade of pink. He wondered if her heart was beating as fast as his; if she had the nervous knots in her stomach and the clouded thoughts that left him unable to think. To decide what to do next.

All he could do was stare, watching her as she watched him. Even as the television blared with the cheering of the crowd, the silence between them felt deafening.

Maria was the first to speak, her voice unusually soft and timid. “Happy New Year, Ivan.” She said, her hands falling from his face to rest against his neck. He was certain, at that point, that she could feel the rapid pulse beneath her fingers.

He tried to formulate a response; a proper string of words. But all he managed was a tremble of lips that must have looked silly. It was enough to draw a timid smile from Maria, who leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. Ivan shut his eyes, feeling remarkably overwhelmed and embarrassed.

“New year, new start. Does that sound agreeable?” She asked. Her breath was warm against his skin and smelled of bitter grapes. “Put everything behind us.”

“Everything?” Ivan chanced a glance. With her so close, he could see the way the colors in her eyes mixed. The pink and blue and the bits of purple where they blended together.

“Just the bad bits.” She amended.

Ivan gave a small, mute nod in reply.

“Would you like me to get off?”

“No,” he answered, perhaps a little more hastily than he intended. He cleared his throat, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “Not just yet, at least…” Maria nodded in acknowledgement, lowering her hands to gently rest on his.

“In that case, can I kiss you again?”

“I didn’t think it was in your nature to ask permission.” He remarked quietly.

“True.” She gave a halfcocked smile as she moved his hands to rest on her hips. His fingers twitched uncertainly, and only when he relented and relaxed did she let go.

It occurred to him that perhaps she wanted more than a kiss and just wasn’t willing to admit it. It wouldn’t have surprised him. Yet it begged the question of whether it was allowed.

Nation-people didn’t exactly have a good track record when it came to these things; and with how events had played out within the last century, he was rather hesitant to simply indulge. They weren’t afforded that luxury; not like this. Not in a way that _meant_ something and was intended to last.

But when Maria kissed him again; when she wound her arms over his shoulders and pressed closer, he found himself blatantly disregarding those worries.

Damn whatever cosmic entity decided their lives were meant to be spent alone and miserable. After everything they’d gone through, they deserved this much.

So Ivan decided to take his chances.

 


	11. Amber

**1989**

_Nations' Estate, Moscow_

“I figured you’d want to spend more time at home with your brother.”

Maria glanced up from the chess board between them, still in the midst of setting up the game. She shrugged rather nonchalantly in response, placing the pieces in their designated spots.

“I did. We spent a good amount of time catching up, but,” she drew in a breath, brows furrowed, “it’s been forty years. Things don’t just fall into place like they used to be.”

Ivan gave a small hum of understanding, propping his chin in his hand as he watched her. “How is he…?” He asked after a brief moment of silence had passed.

“Taller.” Maria remarked, a bit of a sour note to her tone. “And brawny. It’s like he spent the entire time I was gone in a gym. Can you believe he only went up to my hip at one point?”

“Hard to believe anyone was shorter than you at all, actually.” Ivan teased, reaching out to slide the first pawn forward. He jolted a bit when she kicked him from under the table, letting out a grunt of discomfort. “As if I don’t hurt enough,” he grumbled, “I don’t need you adding to my aches and pains.”

“Please, you’ve had worse.” Maria scoffed, making her move on the board.

“Doesn’t make this any less agonizing, Maria.” Ivan scowled.

“Believe you me, I know exactly how it feels.” She sniffed.

Ivan gave a noncommittal hum, watching as the game progressed between them. It was a bit lengthier than their typical games. Maria seemed to be a bit slower at making her decisions, but it was difficult to tell if it was simply because she wasn't completely focused on the game, or if there were other matters at work.

Her hands were trembling.

“Are you cold…?”

Maria glanced up at him, confused at first until she followed his gaze. “Oh,” she flexed her fingers, sitting back in her seat, “no. It’s stress.” She answered hesitantly.

“The adjustment taking its toll on you?”

“You could say that. I’m not sure it’s actually the home front that’s the issue.” She admitted. “I’ve had trouble with it since the War.”

“The tremors?”

Maria nodded, waiting for Ivan to make his next move. There was a brief moment of hesitation as he called out “check”, but Maria easily blocked his advance in the next go.

“Post-traumatic stress, they call it.” She explained. “We’re not quite as sturdy as we originally thought. I assumed it was nerve damage, but it only starts up when I’m, well, _stressed_.”

“Is our game a little too much for you?” Ivan asked amusedly, eliciting a short laugh from Maria.

“As if.” She plopped her piece down finally, knocking over his king. “Checkmate.” She said triumphantly. “Another?”

“I’ve nothing better to do with my time.” Ivan shrugged, straightening in his seat to put the board back in order again. “You said the War caused it.” He went on, a note of hesitation in his voice. He watched her carefully as he spoke, unsure if it was a safe topic to venture in. “This was because of…”

“My incarceration.” Maria supplied shortly, gaze kept on the pieces as she spoke. “You’ve seen the scars.”

“Yes, but you’ve never spoken about them.”

“Not even to Ludwig.” Maria added, drawing a bit of a surprised look from Ivan. She continued to keep her gaze down, however, even as Ivan leaned forward to begin the next round. “He doesn’t even know the scars are there to begin with. No one does but you and Canada.”

Ivan paused, fingers poised over his rook. “Canada.” He said flatly. Maria chanced a glance up to catch the almost jealous look on his features. She couldn’t help her grin.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Ivan. He’s the one that found me, remember?”

“He saw them.” He continued, sounding _very_ unamused.

“He was working as a medic. It was his job.” He still had yet to move his piece, so she continued on. “If it’s any consolation, I kicked him in the face and bit his arm.”

“Good.” He finally put his piece down on the board a little more forcefully than before. Maria tried desperately not to laugh at his reaction. Ivan looked remarkably uncomfortable and perhaps even a little offended.

“They’re talking about reunifying Germany.” Maria said in an effort to change the topic. “They’ve already started drawing up plans on how to integrate the two nations back together.”

Ivan frowned.

“It’ll take time. The East’s economy is a lot weaker. No offense, but the Soviet Union kind of stunted its growth.”

“No offense taken.” He hesitantly shifted his piece forward, watching her closely as she continued.

“It’ll take a couple of years before things finally even out, maybe longer.” She continued.

“What does that mean for you…?” He asked quietly.

Maria faltered in her next move, drawing in a rather short breath. He watched carefully as she looked on, formulating her reply.

For the first time in a long time, Maria appeared visibly anxious. Scared, even. She fidgeted in her seat, gaze held petulantly on the chess pieces between them; looking anywhere but at Ivan. “I don’t know.” She said.

Her stone cold visage had lost its edge. Ivan could finally see through the cracks once more, could see what she was thinking and feeling plain as day, just as he’d been able to years and years before.

She was lying, he realized. Of course she was; Maria was a remarkably intelligent woman and Ivan had no doubt in his mind that she knew exactly what was going to happen, and he had a sinking feeling he did too.

Ivan moved his piece forward slowly.

“Checkmate.”

* * *

  **2003**

_Berlin, Germany_

It was the sound of the phone that woke him up.

Well, the phone _and_ Berlitz barking at the noise of it. Ludwig slid his gaze open, staring rather disgruntledly at the ceiling before coming to terms with the end of his short lived nap. He heaved himself off the couch, mindful of the Golden Retriever curled on the floor. Aster merely lifted his head momentarily before letting out a snort and returning to his own afternoon snooze.

“Hush,” Ludwig scolded Berlitz, giving the dog a light swat to the muzzle before ambling into the kitchen to grab the phone. “Beilschmidt, Ludwig.” He greeted. There was a brief pause on the other line.

“Ah, that was your greeting.” Came a rather familiar sounding voice. “Izvinitye, I mistook it for the machine, at first.”

He scowled, pulling the handset back to look at the caller ID. “Ivan?”

“Da. I hope I’m not calling at an inopportune time?”

Ludwig shifted, leaning to rest his hip on the counter and tuck one arm over his chest. “No, it’s my day off. What do you need?”

Ivan paused a second, shuffling papers around, it sounded like. “I’m calling about that little project of ours.” He finally said. Ludwig let out a soft “ah” of acknowledgement. “Well, not so little.” Ivan amended.

“I’m assuming you’re calling to tell me it’s finished?” Ludwig ventured. Ivan gave the affirmative.

“Just in time, too. I’ve already made the arrangements on my end, but I simply wanted to call and thank you. This wouldn’t have been possible without your help.”

Ludwig shrugged idly, despite Ivan not being able to see it. “It wasn’t an issue in the slightest, I was happy to assist.” He watched as Berlitz padded into the kitchen, plopping down next to his feet. Ludwig reached down to scratch him affectionately behind the ears. “It’s for her, after all.”

Ivan hummed in agreement. “Yes, but the appreciation still stands.” He went on quietly. “Are you sure you have everything—”

“Everything will be taken care of on my end,” Ludwig assured, “you worry about what you need to.” He pushed off the counter to shuffle toward the coffee machine, sliding a mug off the rack beside it.

“Yes, right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He responded quietly, pouring himself a cup before returning to his previous position.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you next week, then. Do svidanya.”

“Until then.” Ludwig said in goodbye, pulling the receiver away from his ear to end the call. He stood there staring at it for several long moments, attention only being drawn away when Berlitz began to whine beside him. Ludwig set the phone back down on the counter, crouching down to pet the needy German Shepherd.

It was quiet in the large house.

The weather was nice enough that he’d left the windows up and the backdoor open for the dogs to go in and out of freely. A gentle breeze blew through the abode, ruffling the curtains and bringing with it the fragrance of spring. The grandfather clock in the study was about the only noise disturbing the peaceful quiet that had settled around him.

Until a scrawny little wiener dog went bolting in from the backyard. He had a jowl full of flowers and dirt that left a trail on the tile floor in his wake.

“Blackie, you sonofabitch!” Came an irritated shriek from the backyard. “Get back here with my peonies!”

Ludwig quickly reached out to snatch the dachshund by the collar, eliciting a shrill yelp of shock from the affronted canine. The mug of coffee still in his hand went sloshing, spilling the liquid onto the floor. “Bad dog!” He scolded. “Release!” It didn’t really accomplish much; by the time Blackie let go of the flowers, most of the stems and leaves were either punctured or broken. Ludwig let out an irritated huff, shooing Blackie off before standing.

Coffee _and_ dirt, all over his pristine kitchen floor. He pinched at the bridge of his nose, sliding his now half empty cup onto the counter.

Berlitz was already trying to help slurp up the mess. Ludwig thanked his lucky stars they only kept decaf in the house.

The mess could wait just a few moments. Ludwig padded out of the kitchen and through the back door, scanning the back yard until he found Maria finally getting to her feet. She straightened her straw garden hat rather roughly before tugging her gloves back into a snug fit.

“Gardening troubles?” Ludwig asked, brows raised. She shot him a sidelong glare before fixing up her little work area. Her tool bucket had been knocked over, scattering her trowel and hand rake in the grass, along with a small assortment of other things like seed packages and the like.

“If that damn dog isn’t careful, I’m gonna serve him up for dinner one night.” She bit out sourly, squatting down in front of the mess of upturned dirt where Blackie had made his mark. Maria yanked out the damaged plants that wouldn’t recover, tossing them into the weed pile not far off.

“You’d miss him.” Ludwig remarked, leaning against the porch railing as he watched her work. “How’s it coming along?”

“It was going just great until that weasel came through. It’s always the peonies he goes after.” She grumbled, dragging the palette of fresh, undamaged flowers back to her side before continuing where she’d left off. “Maybe if I put some marigolds here…” She added with a hum, rather quickly getting lost in her own thoughts.

But then she seemed to remember something else that piqued her interest. Maria looked over toward Ludwig, a curious look on her face. “Who was that on the phone?” She asked.

“Feliciano.” He replied easily, watching her expression first go to ecstatic, and then very quickly drop into disappointment.

“And you didn’t put me on!?” She whined, sitting back on her heels. “Come on, Lutz, you know I need a regular dose of Feli in my life.”

He stifled a chuckle, twining his fingers together. “He misdialed.” He said in excuse.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” She commented, turning her attention back to the flowers. “He say anything interesting?”

Ludwig hummed a bit. “Wanted to know if you were coming to the next meeting.”

“I didn’t really think I was allowed to.” She frowned. “Kind of…part of my dissolution agreement, wasn’t it?” Her brows creased together as she tried to remember. “Something about being barred from taking part in any government or political activity.”

“Which is just a fancy way of saying you can be present, but not participate.” Ludwig clarified, garnering a rather curious glance from her. “I figured you’d enjoy getting out,” he shrugged, “seeing some familiar faces.”

Maria pursed her lips, seeming to heavily deliberate on the matter. “Will there be refreshments?”

“If by refreshments you mean lukewarm coffee and bland sandwich bites, then yes.”

“ _Fabulous_.” She snorted. “I shall be sure to wear my fanciest gown and pearls.” She went on in a mocking voice. “I can’t disappoint my suitors, of course.” It was enough to draw a smile out of Ludwig. When her giggles finally died down, she sat back in the grass with her arms on her knees. “What about the dogs?”

“I’ll call the sitter.”

“Hm. Well there’s not really much else to keep me from going.” She shrugged. “Where’s it at this time?”

“Hm? Oh,” Ludwig straightened smoothing out the front of his shirt before turning back toward the house, “it’s a surprise.”

* * *

**1991**

_Sans-souci, Potsdam_

"Looks like he finally got his wish."

"Hm?"

"Quiet funeral at his palace."

Maria hummed softly in response, but otherwise remained quiet. Ivan stood beside her, watching as they shoveled the dirt over Frederick the Great's casket for the last time.

It was August, and so muggy it was almost like one could drink the air. Even so, Ivan still stubbornly kept his scarf and coat on; something he was rapidly starting to regret. Maria had been expectantly sullen during the entire procession; expression soft and sad.

"Do you think I made him proud?" She asked in such a small voice Ivan had to bow his head to hear her completely.

Ivan didn't hesitate when he replied, "absolutely."

"Even after losing everything?"

"Even if you'd set fire to your nation yourself, he would still be proud." He slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat, glancing down toward Maria. "He'd be happy that you've made it this far. By all rights, you've outdone every nation I can think of."

Maria scowled, so Ivan went on to explain.

"You lost the knights. You lost Prussia and then East Germany."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" She grumbled, irritated.

"That you survived all three and are still standing here today absolutely should," Ivan rebutted. "You're a remarkable woman, Maria. Anyone would be a fool to think otherwise."

He felt her lean against him. Without a second thought, Ivan gently wound an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. She pressed her face into his chest, but otherwise remained still and silent.

"We all go through trying times," he said gently, "but in the end, we learn from them and become better people for it."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"Because you told me those exact words years ago." He felt her snake an arm around his waist, but remained unbothered. "You may not have a nation under your feet, but you have a loving brother who would do anything for you, and friends who would stand beside you through anything." He glanced down her way, catching her gaze as she looked up at him. "Fritz didn't value you as a nation," he went on, "he loved you as the person you were; not as Prussia, but _Maria_." He emphasized.

Maria pressed her lips together, turning her gaze back toward the procession before them. In the distance they could hear the sound of water fountains splashing and the wind caressing the trees. It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was exactly what Fritz would have wanted.

"How long are you staying?"

"As long as I need to." Ivan shrugged lightly.

"Long enough for dinner?" 

"I suppose I could make the time." He cast a gentle smile her way, which Maria returned gratefully. He leaned in enough to press a kiss to the top of her head before turning his attention back to the uniformed men before them.

"Ivan?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for being here." Maria said softly. "I really appreciate it."

"Anything for you,  _myshka_."

* * *

**2003**

_Corinthia Hotel, St. Petersburg_

 It didn't take long for Maria to figure out that Ludwig had lied to her. All it took was one conversation with Feliciano for his cover story to fall to pieces. Feli, it seemed, had no idea that Maria would be attending and why on earth they were there so early. It wasn't like Ludwig to be _two days_ ahead of schedule. Feli, on the other hand, had the excuse of his boss putting him on the first plane to St Petersburg in the hopes that he  _wouldn't_ be late. He'd been there a week, he told them, but at least it gave him time to catch up on sleep and see the sights. 

Maria remained delighted in her conversation with Feliciano, playing along the best she could. One piercing look toward her brother, however, and he began to squirm.

He cleared his throat, pretending his sister hadn't just put the pieces together.

"You're up to something." She accused when Feliciano took his leave.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." Ludwig said briskly, chancing a glance toward his wrist watch. He seemed a little frustrated with the time, glancing irritably toward the front doors of the hotel.

"Expecting someone?" Maria folded her arms across her chest, brows raised.

"Something of the sort."

"Ludwig."

He held up a finger to shush her. Maria stared open mouthed, personally affronted by the action. Before she could reprimand him, however, a figure stumbled through the doors rather clumsily and headed their direction. Maria stared at the flushed face of Ivan when he slowed to a stop before them. His chest heaved as if he'd been running.

"Sorry," he straightened and smoothed out his shirt, still desperately trying to catch his breath, "traffic. I meant to be here earlier but..." He trailed off when he caught Maria's glare. Ivan glanced helplessly toward Ludwig. "Ah...you haven't told her yet...?"

"Told me  _what_?" Maria snapped. "What's going on here?"

"It's a surprise." Ivan said quickly before Ludwig had a chance to explain. "It," he weighed his words carefully, unsure how to carefully step around the subject without giving it away, "it's difficult to explain." He settled on.

Maria raised one skeptical eyebrow, looking unimpressed with the both of them.

And then, quite abruptly and unconvincingly, Ludwig announced, "it seems I'm running late for a lunch date. I'll leave you to it. Take care."

"Ludwig Beilschmidt, you impudent little-" Maria started, but Ivan hastily moved to stand between them.

"It's alright, Maria." He tried to console her. "I asked him to do this for me. I have something planned for the two of us."

She seemed to settle a bit at that. Maria folded her arms across her chest, waiting for Ivan to explain further. Unfortunately, Ivan had no plans to spoil anything for her. Instead, he held out a hand for her to take, and lead her back outside toward a black car parked near by.

"Anyone else would think you're trying to kidnap me." Maria accused flatly. Ivan faltered briefly once they were stood outside the car. 

"Right. Uhm," he shuffled awkwardly, reaching into his pocket to pull out a black strip of cloth. "I don't suppose this will be making you feel more at ease, then, will it?"

Maria stared at the item clutched in his hand. "You  _are_ kidnapping me." 

"I most certainly am not."

"That's a  _blindfold_. What would you need a  _blindfold_ for?"

"Because if you don't have it on, you'll know where we're going." Ivan tried to explain desperately. "Please, just," he thrust the fabric toward her, "humor me. It'll be worth it, I promise." 

Maria eyed him suspiciously, but eventually conceded. She snatched the blindfold out of his hand and tied it snugly around her head. Satisfied, Ivan pulled the passenger door open and helped her in.

Now it was just a matter of getting her there.

* * *

It was a little easier than he anticipated, but the defiant silence in the cab was unsettling. Maria sat stiffly in the passenger seat, legs crossed and arms folded. He wasn't sure what to say to fill the silence, so halfway through the drive he put the radio on.

When they arrived at their destination, Ivan switched the engine off and helped her unbuckle. When she reached for the blindfold, however, he quickly grabbed her by the wrist.

"Not yet." He ordered. "I'll tell you when."

Oh, the nerves were starting to get to him. Once they were out of the car, it was just a matter of walking to the final destination. He kept an arm around her shoulders to help keep her on track, though she still stepped clumsily every now and then.

"You're not taking me to some weird sort of dungeon, are you?" She asked bemusedly. Ivan gave a nervous laugh.

"No, of course not. Quite the opposite."

"So you're gonna lock me in a tower then."

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Ivan chided, guiding her through another doorway. It was silent except for sound of their shoes echoing down the halls. Briefly he wondered if she'd be able to identify the place with just that, but it was far fetched even for him. 

Finally, they came to the last set of doors. Ivan gently pushed them open, and then guided Maria to the center of the room where he finally released her.

"Now?" 

"Now."

Maria reached up to undo the blindfold and let it slide off. All it took was one look, and she was near in tears.

She was surrounded by the breathtaking view of dozens upon dozens of hues of amber glittering in the incandescent light. Gold leaf embossed frames and molding, gemstones sparkling like the precious jewels they were.

And Ivan, stood in the midst of it all, smiling so handsomely Maria could have sworn he was meant to be part of the display as well.

"You found it...?" She asked weakly.

"Not quite." Ivan shifted his weight from foot to foot, glancing anxiously about the room. "It was a combined effort between me and Ludwig to have it remade. We found the blueprints a while back and...well," he motioned toward the opulent walls and decorated ceiling, "here it is."

It was times like this that Ivan was reminded of just how easily Maria could be brought to tears. Not even two seconds in the room and her nose had gone red and tears pricked at her eyes. He couldn't particularly blame her, though. The Amber Room had meant a lot to the both of them, and having lost it was a devastating blow.

But now there they were, back where it had all began.

"You can have it on one condition." Ivan said, garnering Maria's full attention rather quickly.

"What's that?" Maria wiped at her eyes quickly

He hesitated, briefly worried she'd turn down his offer on the spot. He tugged at the ends of his scarf nervously, clearing his throat before he responded.

"Come live with me in Moscow."

Maria fell still and silent, eyes wide and mouth hung open in disbelief. She was sure she had heard him correctly, and yet she almost didn't believe him. Her lack of response didn't abate Ivan's nerves in the slightest.

"Please." He added, in the hopes that it would help push her along for a decision. When she still didn't respond, he went on, "Ludwig and I have already talked about it. Ultimately the decision is up to you, but..." He trailed off, turning his gaze to the ground. "It's a silly request, but I figure it's more reasonable than asking for a troupe of tall soldiers."

"And if I say no?"

He started a bit at her question, quickly looking up. He was worried, almost, that she was about to deny him. But her expression rather said otherwise.

"Then the room is still yours," he admitted, "and you can come and visit whenever you want."

"Y-You drive a hard bargain." Her voice cracked despite her efforts. She couldn't do anything to stop the tears at that point and just stood there helplessly as they streamed down her cheeks. He felt guilty for making her cry, but at least they were happy tears. "What if we don't get along?"

"We will." Ivan said without a second thought.

"You don't know that." Maria warbled almost pitifully.

"We won't know unless we try, right?"

It didn't take much longer for the tears to get the better of her. She was absolutely sobbing by the time she finally blubbered out her reply, which was nothing more than a rapid nod of the head and a pitiful reach toward him. Ivan felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He let out a breath and quickly closed the distance between them, wrapping her up in her arms.

She fit perfectly against him; her head tucked under his chin and arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. He cradled her there until she managed to regain control of her emotions and calm down.

"Ivan?"

"Yes?"

"If you don't kiss me _right now_ , then the deal's off."

He let out a soft laugh, cupping her face in his hands.

"For you? Anything." He said, and easily closed the distance between them.


	12. Stars

**2016**

_Lake Baikal, Siberia_

“Remind me again why we’re taking this hike in the middle of December, in _Siberia_?” Maria said, stopping briefly to catch her breath in the cool crisp air. Ivan came to a standstill a few paces behind her, looking rather winded.

“Because you like hiking?” He offered rather unconvincingly.

“Hiking is not a winter hobby.” Maria scowled.

“Technically winter doesn’t begin until next week.” Ivan sniffed, garnering a sidelong glare from his partner.

“This is _Russia_ ,” she stated flatly, looking not one bit amused, “it’s winter from September until _May_.” Maria hefted her pack as she began walking again, adjusting the straps on her shoulders.

“Fair enough…” Ivan conceded with a hum, idly keeping pace behind her. “I’ve been meaning to lose weight, perhaps a hike simply sounded like a good idea?”

“For the last time, Ivan, you do not need to lose weight. You are perfectly handsome and the right size of big.” Maria rolled her eyes.

“Alfred said I have love handles.” Ivan frowned, glancing down briefly toward his waistline. It used to be he had trouble keeping the weight _on_ , but now that the economy had seemed to level out and things were on the up and up, he had more trouble keeping it _off_ these days.

It was a little disgruntling to say the least.

“So?” Maria looked at him over her shoulder, lips pulling up into a wicked grin. “He’s not the one grabbin’ at ‘em, last I checked.”

“ _Maria_!”

She let out a cackle, head tossing back as she laughed. She casually hopped up onto a small outcropping of rocks, posing in a way reminiscent of Pirates on the lookout for dry land. She towered over Ivan in all her plush goose down glory.

Siberia did sort of necessitate thick outerwear. Ivan was comfortable enough, but the cold went straight through Maria’s petite frame, forcing her to bundle up so much that she looked rather like a waddling blue marshmallow puff.

It was pretty funny, however Ivan refrained from making remarks in fear that she’d add to his ever growing collection of shin bruises.

“I have something special planned.” He finally answered, soliciting a curious look from Maria as she hopped back down onto the trail from her perch.

“In Siberia?” She asked in a deadpan.

“Well, it’s a rather specific something so, yes. Siberia.” He replied succinctly. She grumbled under her breath, drawing a smug grin and chuckle out of him.

“You’ve finally decided to kill me and dump my measly remains in the world’s deepest lake.”

“Please,” he laughed, “if I were going to do that, I’d go somewhere much more remote. This is a tourist destination, after all.” Ivan tugged his scarf up over his nose to fight off the chill.

“What, like _North_ Siberia?” She let out another short laugh, waving a hand in front of her as if displaying a headline. “I can see it now. An archaeological dig a century from now. My frozen corpse is exhumed, but as I melt, I come back alive and I’m the new Captain America.” She paused. “In a manner of speaking, anyway.” She added hastily.

“Mm. You’re too short for a superhero.”

“Clearly you’ve never heard of Ant-man.” Maria accused. “Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, and they all have killer asses.”

Ivan rolled his eyes, giving her a soft nudge. She retaliated in kind, grinning widely.

“The spot I have picked out is just a bit ahead.” He told her, pointing off toward sloping foothills that teetered toward the lake shore. “Hardly anyone ventures around these parts, so it’ll just be the two of us.”

Maria hummed thoughtfully, glancing out toward the vast lake beside them. They had started their hike late in the evening, something she had thought a little odd, but went along with never the less. The setting sun cast a brilliant array of warm colors across the lake and snow, reflecting prettily back at them.

“It’s beautiful.” She commented. “The sunset kinda makes the lake look violet, like your eyes.”

Ivan felt his cheeks warm. He cast his gaze off to the side embarrassedly.

“Has it frozen over yet? It’s so still I can’t tell.”

“I could always push you in and find out.”

“Then you’d have a popsicle for a girlfriend.” Maria elbowed him in the ribs, eliciting a rather ridiculous sounding giggle from him.

“There are worse things,” Ivan’s lips pulled up into a teasing smile, “I could be dating you.”

“You love me, don’t even try that.” Maria huffed, breath steaming in the air. Ivan laughed and trudged on ahead toward the planned campsite he’d picked out.

It took a bit longer to reach than anticipated, but Ivan and Maria blamed it on the snowy ground and patches of ice littering the trail. By the time they reached their stop, Maria all but dropped her rucksack like a bag of bricks. She stretched her arms over her head to get the kinks out of her shoulders, bending back as she let out an appreciative groan. Ivan had already begun fixing up the tent, leaving Maria to pull out their bedrolls and snacks. Her job was easy and quick, whilst Ivan had to fuss with pulling the tent together. Maria simply found a place to sit and watch.

It was something, Ivan noted, that Maria did _quite_ happily, as every time he chanced a glance her way while he was bent over pulling the tent sheet over support rods, her gaze was decidedly _low_.

What an unbelievable woman.

“That’s a pretty interesting tent.” Maria quipped, and for a moment he was convinced she was making some sort of innuendo until he followed her gaze toward the near complete shelter. There was a clear plastic sheet running down the middle of it, angled so that it primarily faced the lake. Ivan knelt down to finish anchoring the tent down with a few swift strikes to the support spikes.

“It’s meant for stargazing.” He explained.

“Oh, I see.” Maria sat back. “We’re UFO hunting.”

Ivan gave a short laugh. “If that were the case, Alfred would be here instead. Not you. Give me your sleeping bag, please.” He held out a hand, which Maria quickly supplied with the requested item.

She watched as he crawled into the tent to finish setting up. Bed spreads flattened out over the ground, tent heater switched on along with an electric lamp for light. A few more moments and the campsite was finished.

Maria finally ducked in when Ivan called for her, immediately shedding her top most (and thickest) coat. The battery powered heater they had was small, but it worked _quite_ well. Maria let out a sigh of relief, flopping on her back heavily. Ivan joined her after he’d shimmied out of his own coat, twining his fingers together over his stomach.

“Do you think,” Maria started slowly, drawing in Ivan’s attention, “that if we kissed in subzero temperatures, our lips would freeze together?”

Ivan closed his eyes and tried desperately to remember why he was doing this. He also tried in a vain effort to remember why it was he loved such a ridiculous woman.

“I wouldn’t know.” He replied in a deadpan voice.

Maria rolled onto her side, one arm pillowed beneath her head. “Wanna find out?”

“Not at this very moment, no.” He replied aloofly, gaze fixated on the darkening evening sky.

Maria looked personally affronted. “How can you not want to kiss me? It’s romantic! We’re on a date and I’m beautiful and you _adore_ me.”

“For the same reason I have denied you many times before, Mashunya,” he started bemusedly, “there is a time and a place, and while this is the place, it is not the time.”

“How’s ten thirty-five lookin’? Got any vacancies then?”

Ivan shook his head, grinning. “You’re impossible.”

The sun was already beginning its final decent in the sky, sliding down past the horizon. The winter months were short, pulling the indigo blanket of night above them swiftly. The tent warmed quickly on account of the heater Ivan had set up, but the chill still tried to seep in through the ground beneath them.

The plastic strip of the tent stretched over their heads, leaving the darkening sky in plain view. Ivan watched as the stars began to peak out, shimmering like diamonds in the sky.

It was quiet.

At least until Maria gave him a nudge and asked, “You meditating?”

Ivan gave a short, airy laugh. “No. Just thinking.”

“Ruble for your thoughts?”

Ivan shifted, sitting upright finally. Maria reluctantly joined him, sitting side by side facing the clear opening toward the lake.

“It’s been three hundred years since you gave me the Amber Room.” He said.

“Really?” Maria’s brows raised in astonishment. Ivan gave a hum of affirmation.

“Give or take a few months, but yes.

“Time flies.”

“It does indeed.” He agreed, pulling his legs in to rest his arms on his knees. Maria had hers crossed at the shins, hands linked loosely in front of her ankles. “But it got me thinking about all the time we’d spent together there.” He continued. “We had quite a few great talks and…interesting nights.” His lips twitched up at the edges.

“You’re not gonna bring up Schloss Julchen, are you?” She asked in a dreaded tone.

“No,” Ivan assured, “I was thinking more on the occasion we spent together talking about the end of the world.” He chanced a glance her way, watching as recognition flitted across her features. She laughed, head tilting back slightly as she did so.

“God, you remember that, too?”

“It wasn’t that long ago, really.” He remarked, watching as she shuffled to get more comfortable. “You were only joking, of course, but you made a comment about a date amongst the stars.”

“I do recall saying something of the sort.” She said, scrubbing at her nose with her sleeve. “Who’d’ve thought we’d make it to the moon and then some.”

“You seemed awfully convinced it was inevitable.” He commented. “You went through the trouble of drunkenly making blueprints for the first space shuttle over drinks that evening.”

“Anything is possible.” She quipped.

“You insisted it be bright pink and have a compartment full of kittens, as well as an entire room dedicated to _ice cream_ dispensers.”

“ _Anything_ , Ivan.” She reiterated. “They put a dog in space, they can put kittens and ice cream too.”

“Yes, but the color?”

“We as human beings deserve to travel the cosmos in _style_.”

There was no end to Maria’s sass and wit, that much was obvious. Ivan stifled his laughter and leaned back, taking a moment to think back on his original topic.

“You never told me your opinion.” He finally said, looking her way.

“On what?” Maria met his gaze quizzically, head tilted.

“What happens to us after the world ends.” He clarified.

Maria gave a small hum of recognition, lips pursed. She seemed awfully invested in the thought, staring blankly ahead while looking incredibly focused all the same.

“I think we’d grow old.” She answered. “I mean, it… I was only officially dissolved for about two years, but…” her expression pinched up a bit, “it’s difficult to say. There was too much going on. If the world ended, there’s no telling, but I think we’d turn mortal.”

Ivan nodded slowly. “And if the world were no longer intact? Say the human’s packed up and took to the stars, leaving the land behind?”

Maria fell short of a reply. Her nose scrunched up as she deliberated. “That’s…” she started, “I don’t know. I guess it’s possible. I’m sure there were nation people who had no defined borders in the past. People used to be nomadic, after all.” Maria gnawed on her bottom lip as she thought, brows furrowed. “Which would mean we’re tied to our people, not the land. So,” she glanced toward Ivan, trying to read his expression, “so we’d just sort of…go on forever, wouldn’t we? Until the last human died?”

“I’m asking you, so you tell me.” Ivan shrugged, flinching to the side when Maria reached out to swat at him. “Alright, alright.” He conceded, waiting for Maria to lower her hand. “I’m not entirely sure how we’d manage to survive out there without starting a colony or finding ways to cultivate food.”

“Matt Damon did it.” Maria said quickly, reaching over to snag a bag of chips from her pack.

“Yes, but that was a movie. We have yet to actually put a man on Mars, Maria.” He reminded her as she pulled the bag open. It crinkled in her hands, the smell of processed salted potato chips filling the tent.

“Kill joy.” She grumbled around a mouth full of crisps.

“I put the first man in space,” he defended, “I take astronomy quite seriously.”

She laughed at that, the noise like wind chimes in the still night air. Ivan finally motioned to the lake laid out before them. “Regardless, if we did make it that far, I imagine it would look something like this.”

Maria finally followed his gaze, falling quiet when she saw just what it was Ivan had brought her to see. She stopped chewing, rendering everything silent.

Lake Baikal hadn’t completely frozen over just yet, but there was a thin sheet of ice covered with rain water that reflected the surface perfectly, like a mirror. Crystal clear, not a ripple in sight. The horizon went on forever. Baikal was quite large, meaning it was impossible to see the opposite shore line from where they were.

The sky blended with the lake’s surface seamlessly. There was no light pollution, allowing the stars to shine their brightest and for the milky way to stretch into view above their heads.

Maria was a fidgety woman by nature. More often than not, she moved around restlessly, always doing something with her hands or _talking_ incessantly. She was never quiet; never still.

But in that moment, she was absolutely silent and unmoving. Ivan watched as she stared, her gaze darting back and forth from one flickering light to the next.

Maria’s eyes were so lightly colored with nothing more than the palest blue and pink in her irises, that they reflected everything around her beautifully. On sunny days her eyes echoed the bright blue of the sky, and in the evenings the amber light from the sunset would shimmer in her gaze.

She had stars in her eyes that night.

“It’s endless…” She breathed, mystified, almost. “Ivan, it’s—”

“Pay close attention,” he interrupted quietly, motioning with an outstretched finger, “look carefully.”

She sat straighter and watched almost vigilantly. For several moments, there was nothing.

Until for just a split second, a little white line streaked across the sky. Maria’s lips spread into a wide smile.

“A meteor shower?”

“The Geminids, to be exact.” Ivan nodded, watching as she set the chips off to the side. “You can see them from home, too, but I wanted you to view the whole thing without the city lights getting in the way.”

“It’s beautiful.” Maria whispered softly, as if her voice would break the ice and send the stars scattering to the ground. It was slow to start, the meteor shower, but as the time ticked by, they became more and more frequent until it looked as if the heavens were raining down above them.

“When I was very little,” Ivan began fondly, “before we had ever met, before I had even come in contact with any of our kind, the stars were what I looked to for company.” He followed trail after trail with his gaze, a nostalgic expression falling into place. “I was alone in the bitter Russian cold with no one but the ghost of winter to accompany me like a frozen shadow. But I’d look up at the night sky and…suddenly I wasn’t alone or scared anymore. The constellations were my home.”

He felt her watching him. Gradually, he swiveled his gaze back toward hers, looking over her soft expression.

“You’re gonna say something really cheesy and romantic, aren’t you?” She asked, effectively bringing their little ‘moment’ to an end.

Ivan’s expression fell quite abruptly. He scowled at her, looking miffed.

“Would you rather I not?” He huffed, looking embarrassed.

“No, no, by all means,” she giggled, shifting to face him with an extremely amused look on her features. Ivan pointedly looked away, folding his arms over his chest petulantly.

“You’ve ruined the moment.” He shook his head. “It’s pointless to say it now.”

“Oh come on, Ivan, please!? I love it when you get all gooey and romantic.”

“No.” He said flatly.

“I’ll make you dumplings first thing when we get back home?” Maria offered, brows raised.

Ivan hesitated, feeling remarkably ashamed by how much sway her cooking had over him. It was just another painful reminder that he needed to get back on a regular diet and exercise regimen.

“I was going to _say_ ,” he began slowly, casting a glance her way to make sure she was actually going to remain silent this time, “that I no longer need the night sky for comfort. You bring me more than enough. More than all the stars in the sky could ever give me.”

“This place…this view,” he continued, motioning to the starlight vista before them; to the broad, endless expanse of twinkling lights and shooting stars, “I used to feel most at home here.”

“And now…?” Maria’s voice was so soft, like a gentle night breeze over a grassy plain. He was aware of the tight grip she had on his sleeve, of how she waited with baited breath for him to continue.

“Now,” said Ivan, “home is with you.” He looked her way to see bright red cheeks and gorgeous, starlit eyes pricking with tears.

God, he adored her. Just the sight of her made his heart stutter and ache, but it was a _good_ ache. It made him feel full and healthy and _alive._

Like he was in once piece. Whole.

Complete.

“Ivan Braginsky, you better damn well kiss me and kiss me _good_ or I swear to God—” Maria started, tears already spilling over her cheeks. It was hard to believe how emotional a being she was.

Ivan reached out to wipe at her tears, smiling softly. “Aren’t you afraid our lips will freeze together?” He asked curiously, eliciting a choked giggle out of her. She grabbed at his scarf, already trying to pull him in.

“I’ll take my chances.” She said…

                …and quickly closed the distance between them.


End file.
